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A. L. A. Columbian Library 

Chicago 1893 



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33p jfttcjjolas JJ. (Snlman. 

PROFIT SHARING between Employer and 
Employee : A Study in the Evolution of 
the Wages System. Third Edition. Crown 
8vo, $1.75. 

THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. Crown 
8vo, $1.00. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

Boston and New York. 

In Preparation. 

SOCIALISM AND THE AMERICAN SPIRIT. 



3Sj> eatoarU $)♦ 3Tacfcson. 

CHARACTER BUILDING: A Master's Talks 
with his Pupils. Crown 8vo, $1.00. Pub- 
lished by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 
Boston and New York. 

A DEMIGOD; A Novel. i6mo, $1 00. Pub- 
lished by Harper & Brothers, New York. 

THE EARTH IN SPACE. 40 cents. Pub- 
lished by D. C. Heath & Co., Boston. 



Conduct as a fine art 



THE 



LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT 



By NICHOLAS PAINE GILMAN 



CHARACTER BUILDING 



By EDWARD PAYSON JACKSON 



We study Ethics for the sake of Practice 
Aristotle 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

(Cbe fitoersri&e ^tess, Camfcrt&ge 

1892 






r 






li/i r; 






Copyright, 1891, 
By NICHOLAS PAINE GILMAN 

AND 

EDWARD PAYSON JACKSON. 
All rights reserved* 



THIRD EDITION. 

By transfer 

• • • 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A, 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. 




THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT 

By NICHOLAS P. GILMAN 

CHARACTER BUILDING 

By EDWARD P. JACKSON 



Vbl5 



THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT 

By NICHOLAS PAINE GILMAN 

Health of mind consists in the perception of law 

Its dignity consists in being under law 

Emerson 



Co tfyt $0fcle ^rnxg of Cearfjertf 

This attempt to aid the cause of Moral Education 

in the Public Schools of America is 

dedicated with sincere esteem. 



O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule 
And sun thee in the light of happy faces, 
Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces ; 
And in thine own heart let them first keep school. 

For as old Atlas on his broad neck places 
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it, so 
Do these upbear the little world below 
Of education — Patience, Love, and Hope. 
Methinks I see them grouped in seemly show, 
The straightened arms upraised, the palms aslope, 
And robes that, touching as adown they flow, 
Distinctly blend like snow embossed in snow. 
Oh part them never ! If Hope prostrate lie, 

Love too will sink and die, 
But Love is subtle and doth proof derive 
From her own life that Hope is yet alive ; 
And bending o'er with soul-transfusing eyes, 
And the soft murmurs of the mother dove, 
Wooes back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies ; 
Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love. 
Yet haply there will come a weary day, 

When overtasked at length, 
Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way. 
Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, 
Stands the mute sister Patience, nothing loth, 
And, both supporting, does the work of both. 

COLEBIDGE. 



PREFACE. 



The American Secular Union, a national association 
having for its object the complete separation of Church 
and State, but in no way committed to any system of 
religious belief or disbelief, in the fall of 1889 offered 
a prize of one thousand dollars "for the best essay, 
treatise or manual adapted to aid and assist teachers in 
our free public schools, and in the Girard College for 
Orphans, and other public and charitable institutions, 
professing to be unsectarian, to thoroughly instruct 
children and youth in the purest principles of morality 
without inculcating religious doctrine." 

The members of the committee chosen to examine 
the numerous MSS. submitted were : Eichard B. West- 
brook, D. D., LL. B., President of the Union, Philadel- 
phia; Felix Adler, Ph. E>., of the Society for Ethical 
Culture, New York; Prof. D. G. Brinton, M. D., of the 
University of Pennsylvania ; Prof. Frances E. White, 
M. D., of the Woman's Medical College, and Miss Ida 
C. Craddock, Secretary of the Union. As, in the opin- 
ion of a majority of the committee, no one of the 
MSS. fully met all the requirements, the prize was 
equally divided between the two adjudged to be the 
best offered, entitled respectively, " Character Build- 
ing," by Edward Payson Jackson, one of the masters 
of the Boston Latin School, and " The Laws of Daily 
Conduct." 

Although the two books were written with no refer- 



VI PREFACE. 

ence to each other, they seem to be, both in manner and 
matter, each the complement of the other. The defi- 
ciencies of each are, in great measure, supplied by the 
other. While " Character Building " is analytic and 
cast in dialogue form, the present work is more gen- 
eral and synthetic in its style and treatment. The two 
are therefore published in a single volume, as well as 
separately, at the earnest request of the Union, and the 
authors hope that the joint book will be preferred by 
purchasers. Much of the matter in the introduction to 
" The Laws of Daily Conduct " is equally pertinent to 
" Character Building. " 

The authors of both books are friends to religion, and 
they have written from a deep conviction that there is 
a great need of instruction in morals in the public 
schools. Experience, however, has amply proved the 
inexpediency of the attempt to teach ethics there on a 
religious basis. Of the success of this endeavor to place 
the study on a scientific basis others must judge. But 
in a country marked by a great diversity of creeds, the 
way of practice is surely the one way to follow. To 
teachers and parents who would not neglect the main 
matter of human life while imparting general know- 
ledge, I offer this volume, in the hope that it may be 
somewhat of an aid in moral training in the home and 
in the school. 

X P. G. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Introduction: Morals in the Public Schools. 

Can they be Taught? 3 

Should they be Taught ? 6 

The Best Way 10 

Nature and Design of this Book 15 
Chapter 

I. Life under Law 21 

II. Obedience to Moral Law 34 

III. Self-Control 45 

IV. Truthfulness 55 

V. The Law of Justice . , . . . . .66 

VI. The Law of Kindness 75 

VH. The Great Words of Morality 86 

VIII. Home 94 

IX. Work 100 

X. The Law of Honor 106 

XI. Personal Habits 114 

XII. Our Country .... f ... 122 

I. Patriotism 122 

II. Political Duty 125 

XHI. Character 130 

XIV. Moral Progress 137 

XV. Ldje according to the Golden Rule .... 144 



INTRODUCTION. 



MORALS IX THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 

This small volume has been written to aid teachers 
in public and private schools, and parents in the home, 
in the very important work of the moral education 
and training of the young. As it is intended prima- 
rily for professional teachers, it has been put into a 
form supposed to be especially suitable for their use. 
But I trust that some fathers and mothers will be glad 
Njbo take hints, at least, from these pages. A line drawn 
between education at home and education in the school- 
room is surely somewhat artificial when the subject is 
such a matter as the right direction of the whole life. 
The distinction between the home and the school in this 
connection is not that the home has. properly, a mo- 
nopoly of moral instruction, but that the field of the 
school is the more restricted. 

There are three important questions relating to the 
teaching of morals in public schools which may well be 
answered here, before we take up the main subject of 
this book. 

Can morality be taught in these public institutions, 
supported as they are from taxes laid upon the whole 
community, without doing injustice to any portion ? 
This question, in our present condition, resolves itself 
into two distinct inquiries. 1. Can ethics be taught 
in our common schools without sectarianism, but from 
a religious standpoint ? Tor one, I should answer this 
question without hesitation in the affirmative. It seems 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

to me possible to teach the primary truths of practical 
morals (all that it is wise in any case to attempt in 
schools open to all), grounding them on the great propo- 
sitions of natural religion in such a way as to give 
no reason for offence to any person who accepts these. 
But this task, confessedly difficult when we simply 
mark the many diversities of religious belief in our 
country, it seems inexpedient to undertake when we 
remember that a considerable number of our fellow- 
citizens, who are likewise taxpayers, declare themselves 
| to be destitute of any religious belief, or even vigor- 
ously opposed to all forms of religion. A much larger 
number of persons, again, are believers, but are none \ 
the less hostile to any inculcation, in the public schools, 
directly or indirectly, of any form of theology or reli- 
gion. They consider the State to be, properly, a purely 
secular institution, and they would not have it wound 
the conscience of any citizen by teaching morals from 
a religious point of view. Granting that this would be 
the unavoidable effect with some, be they few or many, 
of the attempt to give ethical instruction on the basis 
of natural religion, we are led on to the second question 
under this first head. 

2. Can morality be taught in our public schools in 
complete separation from religion and theology, from 
what may be called " the scientific standpoint " ? Can 
instruction in practical ethics be so given that no injus- 
tice shall be done to any portion of the community, re- 
ligious, unreligious, or anti-religious ? In other words, 
Ir is there a common ground, in the duties and rights con- 
fessed by all, on which the teacher may stand and give 
tuition in morals as securely as he does in geography or 
arithmetic ? This question would probably be answered 
in the negative by the great majority of persons in our 
country. They would, it is most likely, say that while 
the teaching of morality without sectarianism is difficult, 
to teach it omitting religion entirely, even so-called 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 3 

"natural religion," is practically impossible. As the 
present book is an honest attempt to do precisely this 
thing, it is evident that I emphatically differ with the 
great majority on this point. 

It remains for the reader, or the user rather, of this 
volume to determine its value as an answer to the ques- 
tion whether morality can be taught from the scientific 
standpoint in our common schools. The work must 
speak for itself, but the fact that it is a manual of prac- 
tical morals, not a short treatise on ethical theories, will 
at once suggest to many that the most troublesome of 
the supposed obstacles in the way of moral education 
are left on one side. In fact, I have aimed as directly as 
possible at actual practice ; I have so far omitted ethical 
theory that it would not be strange if some should be 
uncertain whether to rank the author in this school 
of ethical theorists or in that : he may belong to none ! 
Such uncertainty would be a source of gratification to 
him, as an indication of his success in keeping to the 
ground where all schools agree. The great facts and 
the main laws of the moral life are obvious to all ma- 
ture men and women ; certainly, they are not depen- 
dent, for their clearness and their binding force, upon 
any notions as to the origin either of the universe, of 
mankind, or of the perception itself of these facts and 
laws. The facts of astronomy which affect men's daily 
life — such as the so-called rising and setting of the 
sun, the phases of the moon, and the phenomena of 
the ocean tides, for instance — are plain to every one ; 
the explanation of them given by the astronomer to the 
farmer and the sailor (whether correct or not) will not 
essentially change the arts of agriculture and navigation. 
So the common practical duties of human beings have 
long been familiar. [ Each new generation must learn 
them afresh, indeed, but it learns every-day morality as 
an art, not as a science, f The difficulty lies in the prac- 
tice, not in the theory. | Philosophers may dispute as 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

to the exact reason why a man loves, or should love, his 
mother ; but the duty of loving one's mother is not a 
question considered open to discussion in common life. 
The same may be said of the other obligations which 
make up the substance of their duty for the great mass 
of mankind, in all but exceptional times and situations. 
When, then, we have in mind as a subject for public- 
school instruction, not the science of ethics, not the 
speculations of moral philosophers, but the orderly pre- 
sentation of the common facts and laws of the moral life 
which no one in his senses disputes, we perceive how 
the religious or theological difficulty at once disappears, 
to a large degree. There is possible a theistic expla- 
nation of the moral law ; there is possible an atheistic 
explanation ; but there is a third course open here to 
the common-school teacher, — to attempt no such final 
explanation at all ! It is not necessary for him to teach 
that morality rests upon religion as its ultimate foun- 
dation ; it is just as unnecessary for him to -teach that 
religion, on the contrary, reposes upon morality as its 
basis. Let the relation of religion and morality be as 
it may be : the teacher is not called upon to decide an 
issue of this magnitude. He can teach the duties of 
ordinary life, showing their reasonableness and their in- 
terdependence, in a consecutive, orderly manner, without 
appealing to religion ; he can use the plain and usual con- 
sequences of actions, good or bad, as reasons for morality, 
without being open to a just accusation of irreligion. 
These consequences as he should teach them are ad- 
mitted by all. He has, then, a right in reason to stop 
with them, because of the practical limitations imposed 
upon him by the time at his disposal, the immaturity of 
the faculties which he is training, and, most of all, be- 
cause of the wide difference of men's minds as to the 
final explanation. The intuitionist and the utilitarian 
agree in attaching much importance to the consequences 
of action as a test of its moral quality. So far as these 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 5 

two keep company, the teacher, then, may safely and 
properly go along with them, not because he is, neces- 
sarily, in his own theory, an intuitionist or a utilitarian, 
but because he is on common and undisputed ground. 
The conduct of mankind is but little affected by theories 
of the origin of the moral sense ; this is in the highest 
degree true of the children in our schools. If the 
teacher will constantly bear in mind that religion is not 
morality, but an interpretation of the whole of human 
life and the universe, he will see that he is not unre- 
ligious or anti-religious in giving to moral instruction a 
practical limit, such as I have indicated, in a scientific 
presentation of practical duty — its facts, its methods, 
and its laws — fitted to the scope of the child's mind. 

Such a limitation bars out all matters of theological 
controversy. The sectarian difficulty and the religious 
difficulty in moral education disappear when we keep 
to conduct and its common laws, and stop short of theo- 
logical or philosophical explanations why right is right 
or wrong is wrong. If sectarians or religious people of 
any faith should denounce this abstinence from disputed 
matter as in itself unwise, wrong, or sinful, we must ask 
them to consider more carefully that the public schools 
are for all, and that the only ground on which they can 
stand and teach is common ground, — as much in moral- 
ity as in arithmetic or language. 1 

The first question as to the teaching of morals in 
schools — the question of its possibility, in justice to all 
kinds of religious belief and no-belief — has detained us 

1 The ancient philosophers disputed long- and to little profit over 
a question which, as Dr. Jowett says, "no one would either ask or 
answer in modern times,' ? — " Can virtue be taught ? " In the Pro- 
tagoras of Plato, Socrates maintains that it cannot be. But this " is a 
paradox of the same sort as the profession of Socrates that he knew 
nothing". Plato means to say that virtue is not brought to a man, but 
must be drawn out of him ; and that it cannot be taught by rhetor- 
ical discourse or citations from the poets." The discussion is, to us, 
pure logomachy. 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

long enough. Allowing that such instruction on ground 
common to all, believers and unbelievers, and in a sci- 
entific manner, is possible, the second inquiry arises : 
Is it desirable to give general moral education in the 
schoolroom ? The objection from sectarianism and di- 
versity of religious beliefs has been anticipated. If it 
is, in fact, possible, and even far from difficult, to teach 
morality scientifically, giving no reasonable ground of 
offence to the various sects, — any or all of them, — then 
the further question of the desirability of imparting in 
the schoolroom a knowledge of moral law may be dis- 
cussed on other grounds. 

On general principles, the common criticism of our 
public-school system, that it looks too much to purely 
intellectual results, and that it has too little influence 
upon the life of pupils after they have left school, tends 
strongly toward giving moral instruction, now much 
neglected, a more conspicuous place in the school course. 
Many of the arguments forcibly used to recommend in- 
dustrial training bear upon moral training as well. Fair- 
minded critics who are among the warmest friends of 
the common-school system find its chief defect, where 
it has been carried, as in the large cities, to its highest 
pitch of apparent excellence, in its actual overrating of 
knowledge alone. Sheer memorizing and cramming for 
examinations are generally to be condemned on purely 
intellectual grounds. The training of the mental pow- 
ers of children, which is surely a most important part 
of the teacher's duty, is very inadequate when the two 
processes just named occupy the place of real honor in 
the educational course. The lack of adaptation to the 
needs of real life in which such a partial education 
results has long been obvious. 

One good remedy for the old narrow and injurious 
insistence upon sheer book knowledge, gotten by heart 
and recited by rote, is the industrial training which 
takes* the boy or girl away from textbook and recita- 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 7 

tion for a part of the school day, and educates the hand, 
the eye, and the practical judgment in other work. It 
is a new discipline of the mind, compared with the 
usual round of study, and it complements admirably the 
intellectual training given by even the best teacher of 
book knowledge. But it is, as well, a new moral disci- 
pline in the virtues, the very essential virtues, of work. 
If the pupils are required to do their manual exercises 
in the training shop with neatness, alertness, and steady 
attention, with economy of time and material, and with 
a thorough interest in their work, the total discipline 
of mental faculties and the moral nature is in the 
highest degree helpful toward true success in after life. 
This kind of education boys and girls out of school, 
and men aud women earning their living, must get from 
actual life ; a gradual transition to it from the education 
chiefly by books is, therefore, most advisable. Indus- 
trial training, to be of any worth, involves no small 
amount of moral training, given, of course, by the same 
person. The latter discipline, equally as a matter of 
course, is not to be imparted in recitations from a book ; 
it is given, as in the actual industries of men, by the 
word and the example of the skilful and energetic. 
There can hardly be any dispute as to the desirability of 
moral training in connection with this department of 
education ; no separation of industrial and moral edu- 
cation is possible. The "virtues of work," as I call 
them further on, are indispensable to technical skill and 
to business success. 

Numerous educators, however, will dispute the advis- 
ability of giving formal instruction in morals in our 
schools as they are now conducted (without any provi- 
sion for industrial training) ; they take this ground 
even when convinced that the difficulties arising from 
sectarianism and religion in general have been over- 
rated, and can be surmounted by the exercise of care 
and judgment. They say that the schoolroom has a 



INTRODUCTION. 

necessary moral discipline of its own, which is enforced 
by every capable teacher ; that it is not well to go be- 
yond this ; that the number of branches of study in our 
schools is already sufficiently great; and that moral 
education is the proper function of the home and the 
church. But I quite fail to see why the moral matters 
which are continually coming up in the schoolroom, 
whether practically in the actual discipline, or theoret- 
ically as suggested in the reading-books used, should be 
thus artificially divided from the ethics of the rest of 
life. The set teaching of arithmetic and geography, 
for instance, is, indeed, the peculiar task which parents 
confide to the schools ; but the instruction which bears 
on character is not to be dismissed by the teacher, on 
his side, as a thing to be attended to entirely by the 
child's guardians at home or in the Sunday school. This 
would be taking altogether too limited and partial a 
view of moral training. Wise instruction in the art of 
right living in human society can hardly be too fre- 
quent ; the practice must always be going on, so long 
as we live here on earth, and help in making that prac- 
tice better and more successful is not likely to be too 
insistent. 

The child spends its earliest years entirely at home, 
and its parents are responsible for the moral influences 
which shape its infant character. When he is five or 
six years old, he is sent to school for some thirty hours 
a week out of the one hundred or so which are not given 
to sleep. Henceforth the responsibility of moral in- 
struction must be divided between the parent and the 
teacher ; but much the larger share continues to fall 
upon the home authorities, of course. Such obvious 
duties of the schoolroom as obedience, industry in study, 
punctuality in attendance, and ordinary politeness, even 
if thoroughly enforced, are far from exhausting the 
moral range of the life at home, with its more frequent 
and varied opportunities for the display of good or bad 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 9 

character, in word and act. But though the father and 
the mother cannot properly throw the whole burden of 
the moral training of their children upon any person or 
persons beyond the home circle, they naturally look for 
a vigorous reinforcement of their own efforts from an 
institution so expressly adapted to training as the public 
school, with its special buildings, its determined hours, 
its professional teachers, and its ample apparatus of 
instruction and discipline. 

The teacher who draws an artificial line in the child's 
life, dividing intellectual training from moral, to devote 
himself to the first and throw the entire burden of the 
second upon the home, commits not only a blunder, but 
also an offence. The child is growing as a moral being 
in school hoars as well as out of them. In them there 
are some special advantages for effective ethical teach- 
ing which the home does not possess. The teacher and 
the parent are even more natural allies in this direction 
than in the field of purely intellectual effort. Every 
public-school teacher is bound, then, I hold, to make 
the school hours a time for instruction in character, so 
far as this is compatible with the chief object of im- 
parting the elements of knowledge. But this does not 
by any means necessarily imply that we shall add a 
new branch to the course of study, which is often too 
full already of varied subjects, or that textbooks of 
virtue or moral theory shall be put into the hands of 
children in order that they may learn to define elabo- 
rately and recite by rote the rules and distinctions of a 
formal morality. On the contrary, I can imagine few 
studies more dry, repulsive, and ineffectual in reaching 
their proposed aim than such a study of morals ! In 
the highest degree it is true of instruction in this art 
of life that it should come direct from the teacher's 
lips and pure from the teacher's heart and example. I 
am not a believer in textbooks of morals for the use of 
children in public schools. But it would be a great 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

assumption to suppose that the whole great army of 
teachers, as a rule, are already entirely competent to 
give familiar talks occasionally on points of good con- 
duct, and that no assistance from a well-devised hand- 
book of practical ethics, especially intended for their 
use, could be of value. Manuals of the art of teaching, 
in general and in particular, are multiplying every year. 
It would be a curious exception if only in the compara- 
tively untried field of moral instruction the teacher were 
left to his own devices. Precisely the opposite method 
I hold to be adapted to the actual state of the case ; 
in no part of the common-school course should a good 
manual for teachers be more welcome or more profitable 
than just here. 

The present book is an earnest attempt to perform 
what seems to be the much-needed service of clearing 
the mind of the common-school teacher as to the nature 
and limits of the moral training which may advisably 
be given in the schoolroom. The younger and more 
inexperienced instructors may find here some useful 
hints as to the best way of putting things. But I shall 
leave it to the older and experienced teachers, who have 
realized the desirability of moral training, to answer 
the third question, " How shall morality be taught in 
our schools ? " largely in their own way. The science 
of education has been amply and thoroughly illustrated 
of late years in books, many and excellent, for the guid- 
ance of teachers. The fit methods to pursue in moral 
education are essentially the same as those laid down in 
these numerous manuals and treatises on intellectual 
development in the schools. There is, of course, no 
fixed and plain line between the two disciplines. Wri- 
ters on psychology and the principles of education now- 
adays devote no small part of their space to topics which 
are common to both. Their frequent remarks on the 
training of the will, on the formation of habit, on the 
influence of association, and similar subjects are of vita] 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 11 

importance to the proper method of instruction in prac- 
tical ethics. From my own short experience as an edu- 
cator, but much more from observation and reflection on 
the matter, I offer to teachers the following suggestions 
for what they are worth, as to manner and method in 
moral education. 

The one principle to keep firmly in mind is to avoid 
didacticism ("preaching") as much as possible, and 
to hold fast to actual life as children already know it, 
or may easily be led to comprehend it. Concrete in- 
stances of right-doing or wrong-doing, happening in the 
schoolroom itself, or just outside, within the immediate 
knowledge of the boys and girls, afford the best starting- 
point for talks about the moral points involved. It 
will be easy to bring the children's minds, through a 
consideration of actual examples, to recognize in some 
degree the general principles involved. The same cau- 
tion needs to be urged here as in the case of other gen- 
eral notions, against haste and consequent disregard of 
the immaturity of the childish mind. But if the teacher 
will shun formality and generality, and keep mainly to 
the particular and the concrete, he will find that few sub- 
jects interest children more than these questions of right 
and wrong in common conduct. These men-and-women- 
to-be find j^eopZe the most attractive matter, just as they 
will find them later in life. Man is not only the 
"'proper," but also the most engaging "study of man- 
kind," large or small. Conduct is to children, who have 
not yet entered upon the great activities of business, 
art, or science, much more than " three fourths of life," 
and the lines of it on which they are beginners will 
continue unbroken through all their years. Elaborate 
casuistry, hair-splitting about imaginary situations, any- 
thing and everything in the line of pure ethical theory, 
should be utterly tabooed in the schoolroom. But with 
these precautions observed, and under the guidance 
of a teacher of well-developed moral sense, boys and 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

girls between eight and fourteen years of age (in the 
grammar schools, where moral education has its most 
fruitful field) wili reason about points of ethical prac- 
tice with interest, and often with a freshness and an 
acuteness that are surprising. If this be not so, then 
these children in school differ very much from these 
same children out of school ! 

If the course of study is, anywhere, so full or crowded 
as not to allow time for the occasional talks (one or 
two a week) about conduct, which I should advise as 
the best method, then that course should be shortened 
by the omission of some branch of much less use- 
ful knowledge sure to be found in it. I would avoid 
set times for these conversations ; in them question and 
answer should play a large part ; the more easily (if 
not very frequently) the teacher " drops into " one of 
them for a few vivacious minutes, the better. Some 
incident of the schoolroom life that has just occurred, 
or some matter in the lesson in reading or history, may 
well interrupt the routine of the ordinary recitation, as 
the teacher asks the opinions of the class or of the school 
on the moral point in question, incites them to think 
more carefully about it, and indicates the conclusion to 
which long experience has brought the world of man. 
The school itself will, naturally, supply the starting- 
point at least for the majority of these ethical talks, for, 
like every other social institution, it has its moral law 
which must be observed by all its members in order to 
attain its end. The plainly visible chief function of the 
public school is to impart the elements of knowledge. 
To this end there must be full obedience to the natu- 
ral authority, the teacher ; the prescribed conditions of 
quiet, order, and studiousness must be observed by the 
pupils. Punctuality in attendance and readiness for all 
the exercises ; truthfulness in regard to absence from 
school, tardiness, or any other failure to comply with 
the regular order ; honorable conduct with respect to 



doBALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 13 

methods of passing examinations ; polite treatment of 
the other scholars ; attention and courtesy to the teacher, 
— such are some of the moral necessities of the school- 
room to be met by the scholars. 

The pupils have no duties which should not be met 
by an equal faithfulness to his duties on the part of 
the teacher, who should not be there teaching unless 
interested in his work, qualified for it, and industrious 
in improving his practice of it. He must be just and 
impartial in his treatment of the scholars ; he must, 
having the authority, exhibit the virtues of a ruler. 
Teaching politeness and honor, the instructor should 
be an honorable gentleman. He has some advantages 
over the parents at home in respect to the moral disci- 
pline demanded by the schoolroom. Indulgence or par- 
tiality for any individual child is out of place, of course, 
whereas at home it may sometimes be very natural ; 
the aim of the school is more limited and definite than 
that of the home ; the hours are set, the labors are 
plainly marked out, and to accomplish them success- 
fully something like military discipline is necessary. 
On the other hand, the teacher has no direct influence 
over the pupil except in the school hours, and his ear- 
nest efforts may be rendered almost useless by the in- 
difference, or the hostility even, of parents. But none 
the less must he strive to connect the morality of the 
schoolroom, which he can enforce, with the morality 
of life outside, as resting on the same general principles 
of reason. While the first rudiments of common sense 
will keep him from speaking of any vice, such as lying 
or stealing or drunkenness, in such a way as to proclaim 
his knowledge that it prevails in any scholar's home, 
he is still free to enlarge upon the manifold evil con- 
sequences of it. Thus his word may help somewhat to 
keep children pure in the midst of a bad home atmos- 
phere, which he is otherwise powerless to change. 

" Word/' — this will usually be easy for the teacher 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

to give in attempting moral education; but nowhere 
else does word amount to so little compared with ex- 
ample. £ If the word is not reinforced by the example, 
its influence will be small. | The demand upon the pa- 
tience and good nature of the public-school teacher is 
great, and by the vast majority the call is well met; 
but one good result of teaching practical morals may 
be in that reaction upon the teacher himself which is 

!seen in other lines. | What one teaches he learns more^ 
thoroughly than in any other way. I So in respect toy 
morals : the conscientious teacher, who cannot fail to 
apply to himself and his own conduct the precepts of 
justice and kindness w T hich he instils into his pupils' 
minds, may be almost as much benefited by the study 
as the scholar. John Milton thought that " he who 
would not be frustrate of his hope to write well here- 
after in laudable things ought himself to be a true 
poem ; that is, a composition and pattern of the honor- 
ablest things ; not presuming to sing high praises of 
heroic men or famous cities unless he have in himself 
the experience and the practice of all that which is^ 
praiseworthy." As Milton would have the poet him- 
self a poem, so the excellent teacher of morals will be 
morality incarnate ; showing forth its gospel as well as 
its law in the daily exhibition of sweetness and light, 
he will be " not virtuous, but virtue " itself ! How diffi- 
cult, but how necessary, is such a preparation of the 
heart and will in the well-rounded instructor of chil- 
dren or of men one does not need to reiterate to the 
teacher who has found his true vocation. 

A single caution may be needed here by the most con- 
scientious. Children take example from the whole man 
or woman instructing them. A severe conception of his 
duty may make a teacher sometimes harsh, where a 
little measure' of good nature would be more effective 
in correcting the offence. " You have not fulfilled every 
duty until you have fulfilled the duty of being pleas- 



MORALS IX THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 15 

ant w is a good saying to remember in the schoolroom. 
Strength of mind and fulness of knowledge have a 
moral bearing on the teacher's character ; good taste, 
refinement, a sense of beauty, — these too should be cul- 
tivated in himself by the instructor of youth. They 
will fit him to be a better and more persuasive moral 
guide ; they will not only favorably affect his own char- 
acter, but they will also diffuse a moral influence, not 
the less powerful because of his unconsciousness of its 
existence. 

Having answered the three questions as to the possi- 
bility, the desirability, and the general method of moral 
instruction in schools, I need add but a few paragraphs 
on the nature of this manual and the best way to use 
it. It is intended solely for the teacher : it is not a 
catechism for the scholar ; it is not a book from which 
the teacher is to read selections to the school. It aims 
solely to be a help to instructors of children in prepar- 
ing short talks on practical morals. 1 There is, to my 
knowledge, very little helpful literature in this special 
field ; and in what there is I have not happened to find 
any work which takes the line I have chosen as the 
best to follow. In this venture at making a properly 
scientific handbook of practical ethics to aid the teacher 
as he is aided by manuals on the teaching of geogra- 
phy, arithmetic, and other studies, I have not crossed 
the line between morality and religion. But every one 
who uses this manual should beware of supposing that 
because the author has omitted appeals to certain great 
beliefs and sentiments of mankind, he is therefore a 
disbeliever in them I am strongly of the opinion that 
the line followed in this book is, substantially, the best 
to take ; that in our common schools it is well to begin 
and to end as I have done. Parents at home, preachers 

1 The teacher will not. for this reason, think the style of these 
chapters too simple ; I have often written as if addressing boys and 
girls. 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

in the pulpit, or teachers in the Sunday school will 
supplement a distinctively scientific teaching of morals 
with a more religious or theological view. , But no one 
can properly say that the method here taken is either 
anti-religious or anti-theological. Morality is here viewed 
as a practical art which has, of course, a working theory 
that it is well to know ; but it seems unadvisable to ex- 
tend this theory, in the case of children in our public 
schools, by bringing in considerations which are dis- 
tinctively religious or theological. Religion may, later 
in life, become one of the greatest inspirations to good 
conduct, and a rational theology may supplement a prac- 
tical science of morals most happily. Both, however, are 
here simply left out of view as subjects too great for the 
common school, and too much complicated with unset- 
tled controversies. So, likewise, ethical theory has been 
shunned, in order to make clearer and easier the suffi- 
ciently difficult task of the teacher. 

When the teacher who takes up this book has become 
well enough acquainted with it to sympathize with its 
spirit and appreciate its leading ideas, ha will be wise 
if he uses it for the purposes of the schoolroom in an 
independent fashion. I would not advise a consecutive 
series of talks to the scholars, following the order of 
the chapters. This order is based upon a logical con- 
ception, but the development of it is meant for the in- 
structor. The matter may well be left to the judgment 
of each individual teacher to decide, according as he is 
more or less inclined to system. But any striking oc- 
casion in school life fitted for driving home a moral 
precept ought to be improved at once, without regard 
to the place of a given duty in a handbook. A very 
free use of this volume will be the best use, so long as 
its method and spirit are accepted and followed. This 
method is to hold fast to the concrete and the actual ; 
this spirit is cleaving to righteousness as the great mat- 
ter in human life. 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 17 

These fifteen short chapters begin with a simple ex- 
planation of Life nnder Law, showing what it means to 
live, as mankind does, in a law-abiding Universe. The 
special significance of Moral Law and Obedience to it 
is the next subject. Obedience is possible mainly 
through the power of Self-Control, which must be fun- 
damental in the nature of any moral being. Exercising 
this, he can practice Truthfulness, Justice, and Kind- 
ness, not as instincts, acting more or less fitfully, but 
as perpetual forces, working steadily from within. Af- 
ter pausing to consider the Great Words of Morality, 
such as " duty " and " conscience," we pass to the groups 
of duties implied when we speak of Home, Work, Honor, 
and Personal Habits, — the last phrase covering " du- 
ties to one's self," as we often hear them called. The 
obligations to our country of Patriotism and Political 
Duty could not be omitted here. The meaning of Char- 
acter and of Moral Progress is next considered, and we 
conclude with a chapter on life according to the Golden 
Eule, the most important precept of practical morals. 

In the text which forms the body of this book, the 
teacher, as has been said, will not find discussions of 
the origin of the moral sense, the nature of conscience, 
the final test of right, and other similar matters which 
belong to the psychology or the metaphysic of ethics, 
not to practical morality. He will do well to consult, 
according to his interest, the books on ethics which are 
occupied largely with these matters ; he will probably 
gain more in the way of illustrations from actual conduct 
found in such works than in any lasting satisfaction of 
his own mind as to the perennial problems of ethics. 
The constant appeal in the schoolroom should be to 
experience which has fully shown the consequence of 
obedience and disobedience to the simpler moral laws of 
conduct here treated. Especially, whenever it is prac- 
ticable, should the law in question be traced in the 
experience of the children themselves, in what they 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

have seen, heard, felt, or done, at home, in school, or 
elsewhere. 

The object of the Notes is to furnish supplementary 
matter to the text, in the way of hints for the develop- 
ment of the subject; illustrations from biography and 
history, which could only be referred to here ; quo- 
tations, or references to passages, from great writers, 
particularly the poets and moralists, bearing upon the 
point of conduct in question ; and occasional indications 
of places in the works on ethics generally accessible in 
which these points are well treated. It is evident that 
these Notes might be extended almost indefinitely ; 
comparatively few are given, and in this direction es- 
pecially the manual will need revision. The skilful in- 
structor, accustomed to teach without relying upon a 
book, will know how to take the material in the text 
and the notes, work it over in his own mind, and give 
it forth in a form suited to the needs of the schoolroom 
and the hour. 

One more suggestion remains : the songs sung in the 
school may be made influential in bringing home a 
sound moral lesson to the scholar's mind. Beyond its 
general refining influence, music may thus become an 
agreeable instrument for fixing plain truths of conduct 
deep in the memory and the heart. The songs should 
not be made exclusively didactic, but after a short talk 
on truthfulness, for instance, the moral could hardly be 
left on the mind more felicitously than with singing, 
"Be the matter what it may, Always tell the truth ! " 

In this attempt to set forth the laws of the good life 
— which is therefore the best, the happiest, the most 
truly successful life — in such a manner as to aid the 
great cause of the education of the young, I have used 
material from many quarters. A careful inquiry has 
not brought to notice any book, however, in English, 
French, or German constructed on the lines here fol- 
lowed. Books of ethical philosophy are many in these 



MORALS IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 19 

languages ; but handbooks of practical morals for schools 
are comparatively very few. But wherever I have found 
anything to my purpose I have appropriated it. A book 
of this kind, as a German author has well said, should 
be a collective work to which many minds have contrib- 
uted : he would be pleased to have his own volume 
quoted as written " by the professors and schoolmasters 
of Germany." So, in offering this small book to the pub- 
lic-school teachers of my country, to make of it what 
use they may, I am careless of originality or plagiarism, 
but I earnestly invite such suggestions for its improve- 
ment as shall make it in the truest sense " a book by 
the teachers of America." 



NOTES. 



Moral education in the public schools is one of the " ques- 
tions of the day " most frequently debated in the press. The 
Christian Union and the Independent of New York, Public Opin- 
ion of Washington, and the Christian Register of Boston, have 
had of recent years many noteworthy expressions of opinion 
from prominent educators on the subject. Cardinal Gibbons has 
ably stated the argument against secular schools. Particularly 
good is a little pamphlet by W. T. Harris, the United States 
Commissioner of Education, entitled Morality in the Schools: it 
is a review of the discussion printed in the Christian Register, 
Jauuary 31, 1889. Mistaken methods of teaching morals with- 
out religion, are described, and a better way indicated, in a pa- 
per on Ethics in the Sunday School, by W. L. Sheldon of St. 
Louis. See also Problems in American Society, by J. H. Crooker. 
Among articles in the periodicals are Religion in State Educa- 
tion, by J. H. Seelye, Forum, i. 427; Training in Ethical Science, 
by H. H. Curtis, Popular Science Monthly, xxvii. 96; Moral and 
Industrial Training, by G. R. Stetson, Andover Review, vi. 351; 
Religion, Morals, and Schools, by M. J. Savage, The Arena, i. 
503. 

The Ethical Record of Philadelphia and its successor, The In- 
ternational Journal of Ethics, have frequently considered the 



20 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

place of morals in education, and the best methods of instruc- 
tion. Some of Professor Felix Adler's valuable lectures on moral 
training have been printed in pamphlet form. 

In the multitude of works on pedagogy, which have more or 
less to say on the moral nature, and the wisest ways of develop- 
ing it, these books may be named as among the best: Plato's 
Republic, books iii. and iv.; Richter's Levana; Herbert Spencer's 
Education ; A. Bain's Education as a Science; Rosenkranz's Phi- 
losophy of Education, part II. chapters xii.-xviii. ; G. Compayre"s 
Lectures on Teaching, part I. chapters ix.-xii. ; and Psychology; 
other works on psychology by J. M. Baldwin, J. Dewey, D. J. 
Hill, and James Sully ; The Senses and the Will, by W. Preyer; 
The Education of Man, by Froebel. Hints on Home Teaching, by 
Edwin Abbot, D. D.; School Life, sl series of lessons, by Mrs. 
F. B.Ames; and Notes of Lessons on Moral Subjects, by F. Hack- 
wood (T. Nelson & Sons), are particularly helpful. 

A point not to be overlooked by the teacher is the use of pro- 
verbs ("the wisdom of many in the wit of one"), which will 
often be effective in fixing a moral truth in the child's mind. 
Such a book as Bartlett's Familiar Quotations will supply brief 
passages of higher literary merit, bearing on points of common 
conduct. The reading exercises, especially the supplementary 
reading, may well be chosen with an ethical aim. While the 
school-room itself supplies the natural basis for instruction in 
morals, by precept and by example, much moralizing on every 
little incident should be avoided. The chief aim of the school, 
after all is said, is to get knowledge. 

The biographies of Arnold of Rugby, and other great educa- 
tional reformers (see R. H. Quick's work with this title) will be 
useful. Every teacher has, in a sense, to be a re-former of char- 
acter, and Coleridge's lines (page iv.) indicate finely the chief 
virtues such a reformer must himself possess. 



THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 



CHAPTEE I. 
LIFE UNDER LAW. 



1. All our human life is lived under Law. At 

the outset let us be clear in our minds as to just what 
we mean by this comprehensive statement. We are 
well aware that in all free, civilized countries, such as 
our own, there is something called " the fundamental 
law," or " the Constitution " of the country. Thus the 
United States Constitution is for all the States. More- 
over, whether we live in Massachusetts, Ohio, Califor- 
nia, Louisiana, or any other State of the Union, we 
live under a State Constitution, too, which is in har- 
mony with the " fundamental law " of the whole coun- 
try. Congress and the State legislatures pass laws to 
adapt the provisions of the Constitutions to the circum- 
stances and needs of our own time. Many large vol- 
umes contain these laws, which do not promise to re- 
ward any one for doing well, but declare punishments 
for persons who do not act in conformity with what 
they prescribe. Policemen, constables, or sheriffs ar- 
rest men or women who are supposed to be " breaking 
the law " of the town or city or State or Xation, and 
they are confined in jails or prisons or kept on bail, 
until they are tried and found to be innocent or guilty 
by the courts. Judges are appointed to preside over 
these courts, at the public expense, and juries are 



22 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

chosen to decide whether the accused person has actu- 
ally broken the law or not. There is a special class of 
persons, lawyers, who devote themselves to studying 
and practising law ; they go into court and argue in 
behalf of one side or the other in a suit. 

Now, when we say that the jury has convicted a per 
son (found him guilty) of breaking the law, what do 
we mean ? We do not intend to say that the law is 
something which can be broken as a pane of glass is 
broken by throwing a stone through it. We get a new 
pane of glass set in such a case, because the old one is 
no longer good for our purpose, to keep out the wind 
and the rain. But when a man breaks the law against 
taking human life by committing a murder, we do not 
have to pass a new law. The law which the murderer 
disobeys is the expression in words of the will and pur- 
pose of the people of this State that no person shall 
take the life of another at his own pleasure merely. If 
one man kills another, not in self-defence, he is a law- 
breaker in this sense, that he disobeys the expres- 
sion of the will of the people. By the methods they 
have established for such cases, they proceed to enforce 
the law against him, i. e., to put it into effect by mak- 
ing him suffer certain consequences of his bad deed as 
a penalty. 

This punishment was laid down in the law before 
the murder was committed, and it was intended to be 
so severe as to prevent any person from killing a hu- 
man being. But if, for any reason, a man or woman 
has actually been killed by another, then we say, " The 
law must be enforced ; and the murderer must lose his 
life," because this is the punishment laid down in the 
law on purpose to keep people's lives safe generally. 
If the murderer is hanged (or imprisoned for life, in- 
stead, under certain circumstances) then the law against 
murder has been " enforced," and we might well say that 
the law has broken the murderer. He acted contrary 



LIFE UNDER LAW. 23 

to the law ; but he was afterwards punished according 
to the law. He disobeyed ; but he had to take the con- 
sequences which the law threatened against disobedi- 
ence. So with respect to offences of less importance 
than the taking of a human life : if a man breaks into 
another man's house at night and carries away some of 
that man's property, or if he steals something out of a 
dry-goods store in broad daylight, he is sent to jail, if 
it is proved that he did the act, and he is kept in prison 
as long as the law has determined for such cases. 

This, then, is what we mean by "breaking" and 
" enforcing " the statute law of the Commonwealth in 
which we live. The great majority of the people living 
in the State believe that their lives and their property 
will not be safe unless laws prescribing punishments 
for certain bad actions are passed and enforced. So 
they choose legislators who make these laws, and pay 
judges and jailers to carry them out whenever any evil- 
minded person disobeys them. In all civilized coun- 
tries human beings live under law in this sense, and we 
say that " a government of laws, not of men " is right, 
meaning that the same rule should be applied to all 
alike who commit a crime, and that no man should 
have the power to suspend or set aside the law so that 
a guilty person ma}' escape the punishment he has de- 
served. 

But this is only one meaning of " living under law." 
The laws of which Ave have been speaking were made 
by men, and they are changed from time to time, as 
men's ideas alter. But when we say "a law of na- 
ture," we are using the word law to mean something 
very different, something which men did not make 
and cannot alter. It is a law of nature, for instance, 
that the tides shall rise and fall tw ice in every twenty- 
four hours : it is a law of nature that the roots of an 
apple-tree shall spread out in the ground and that it 
shall leaf and blossom and bear fruit in the upper air 



24 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

and sunshine. It is a law of nature that water shall run 
down hill, not up hill. We should only make ourselves 
ridiculous if we passed laws in our legislatures that the 
tide should go out and come in only once in the twenty- 
four hours ; that apples should grow in the ground like 
potatoes, and that rivers should run over hills instead 
of going around them. No law of nature can be set 
aside by laws that man makes. We may often be mis- 
taken as to what the actual laws of nature are : we have 
to discover them by experience, and reasoning on our 
experience, of the facts of nature. But when we have 
once found a real law like that of gravitation, the 
widest-reaching of all laws of nature, we should never 
think that we can make it of no effect by saying so, or 
voting so. 

A " law of nature " is our expression of the fact that 
natural forces act in certain ways. The uniformity 
of nature means that we find in all our experience 
that these ways do not change without a cause. Under 
the same conditions the natural forces — gravitation, 
heat, light, and electricity, for instance — always act 
in the same manner and produce the same effects. Just 
as we live together in towns and cities and states, feel- 
ing safe as to our persons and property so far as other 
persons are concerned, because of the human laws that 
have been made to protect us against attack by evil- 
doers, so we have a very much greater confidence in the 
laws of nature which man did not make and cannot 
alter. We feel perfectly sure that the force of gravita- 
tion will hold our houses down to the ground next year 
as well as this year ; so we build them to last for years, 
and we live in them in entire security. We are very con- 
fident that day will succeed night every evening that we 
lie down to sleep : we have no fear that harvest will not 
follow upon seed-time. Gravitation, and the revolution 
of the earth on its axis, and the growth of plants from 
seeds are all parts of the great uniformity of nature. 



LIFE UN DEB LAW. 25 

With respect to these laws of nature, we may say even 
more strongly than we could say it of the wisest laws 
of man's making, " They cannot be broken : they break 
the persons who disobey them" If a little child puts its 
hand on a hot stove, its hand will be burned : if a boy 
who cannot swim goes alone into deep water, out of the 
reach of help, he will be drowned. It is the nature of 
tire and hot things to burn human flesh : it is the na- 
ture of water to cause the death of a person who gets 
under it so that he cannot keep on breathing. The 
judges and the juries sometimes let a person go free of 
punishment if he makes it seem probable that he did 
not intend to break the law printed in the statute-book ; 
or they impose a lighter punishment than they would 
in a case where they were sure that the person diso- 
beyed the law knowingly. But what we call the " laws 
of nature " were not made by human beings ; so we can- 
not ask our fellow-men to change them or alter the pen- 
alties because we did not know all about them or intend 
to violate them. The man who handles a wire charged 
with electricity will receive a shock just the same, 
whether he knew anything about the risk or did not. 
It is our business to learn the laws of nature and to act 
in accordance with them. 

These laws are very many in number, and we are 
constantly learning more and more about them : the 
more we learn, the more sure we become of the uni- 
formity of nature. This truth ii the foundation of 
science and the reason for our daily confidence in the 
future. If we believe that hereafter the same causes 
will produce the same effects as now, under the same 
conditions, we can plan our lives with a firm trust that 
we are building on a sure foundation. This is the rea- 
son why we are continually inquiring into nature and 
its laws ; we study physics and chemistry and botany 
and physiology, and all the other " natural sciences/' as 
we call them, in order first to know, and then to act in 



26 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

accordance with our knowledge. We study the facts of 
natural things and forces in order to find the laws of 
their existence and their operation and in order to make 
our own actions conform to the nature of things. 
We wish to make use of the forces of nature, such as 
heat and electricity, that they may serve our conve- 
nience. After we have found how these forces act, what 
the laws of them are, we have no choice about obeying 
or disobeying, and taking the consequences or not. We 
must take the consequences, if we act in one way 
or another, which " naturally " follow from that action. 
A statement of all the " laws " of any thing in nature 
would be a complete expression in words of the nature 
of that thing : so every thing or being is acting in 
accordance with law when it is acting according to its 
nature. We cannot reasonably expect that things will 
act contrary to their nature. We never find rocks, for 
example, putting out woody fibres and rooting them- 
selves in the soil. We do not expect ever to see oak 
trees walking up and down the street, or animals stand- 
ing on their heads to eat their food. 
(j Every law of nature has an interest and a value for 
' mankind, if purely as a matter of knowledge. But 
among all the sciences, the most interesting to man and 
woman are those which declare the facts and laws of 
our own human nature. We are living beings, and so we 
must act according to the laws of life ; biology is the 
name we give to the science that tells us of the facts 
and laws of life in general, whether in plants or in ani- 
mals. We are animals, and we call by the name of 
physiology the science that informs us about the facts 
and laws of animal life, whether in dogs or horses, or 
any other of the " lower animals," or in mankind. 

As we study this animal life we find, as we get nearer 
and nearer in the scale to human beings, that there is 
more and more of that wonderful life which we call the 
life of mind. So we have a science of mental physiology 



LIFE UNDER LAW. 27 

which is mainly made up of what men have found out 
about the organs and functions of the human mind — 
the brain and nerves which we can see, and the feeling 
and thinking and willing which we are conscious of in 

v ourselves, but which no one can see. We can only 
infer that others are feeling or thinking or willing by 

\ the signs which they make, in expression or speech or 
^J action. 

The fact that men are especially thinking animals 
with minds, is the reason why we have many other sci- 
ences than mental physiology, which has to do only with 
those organs of the mind which it is possible to see 
in a human being, the brain and the nervous system. 
[ Psychology is the name we give (" knowledge of the mind 
/ or soul ") to the science of the human mind in general. 
\ But this is a very great subject in itself : so we divide 
it into branches, and give each one of these a name. 
There is the science of logic, for example, which brings 
; together the facts about the ways in which men reason ; 
/ the science of economics, which relates how they get 
wealth, and consume or distribute it ; the science of 
politics, which expounds the methods in which men have 
come together under various forms of government ; and 
the science of history, which shows us what mankind 
has done in all ages and countries where any record 
has been preserved of its doings. 

*zy-~ ~" All these mental sciences show certain facts of our 
nature as human beings, and sift them so as to discover 
their laws. When these laws are once actually found, 
we have no choice about obeying them and suffering a 
penalty or not. | 'We must obey them if we would pros-> 
per mentally/ So doing, we live in accordance with our \ 
nature as intellectual beings : but if we disobey these 
laws, as to a limited extent we may and can, we must 
take the natural consequences. If, for instance, we rea^' 
son contrary to the laws of logic, which are simply state- 
ments of the way in which we must reason to arrive at 



28 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

/y 

(correct conclusions, we come to a wrong result. We 
I cannot reason or fail to reason, just as we please, and 
\ still have a right to demand that we arrive at the truth 
\ in both cases alike. We cannot act contrary to the ways 
' in which the science of economics shows that men ac- 
quire property, and then rationally complain that we 
are not well-off as to property. ^The re are laws of logic 
and laws of economics which are just as sure and just 
as binding as the laws of physics or chemistry^ They 
are, indeed, often harder to discover, as human nature 
is very complex, and we are subject to so many laws 
that we are more apt to make mistakes about them than 
about rocks and plants and the lower animals. But 
whether we know the law or do not know it, it is still 
in force. The one wise course for us to follow is to dis- 
cover the law, if possible, and then conform our action 
to it. This is not a world in which we can " do as we 
please," and prosper. On the contrary, as a very wise 
man has said, " Only law can give us freedom ; " we 
must obey the laws of our own human nature and of all 
nature, if we would have true liberty and happiness. 

Most of all is what we have been saying true of the 
science of ethics or morals (the two words mean the 
same thing, one being derived from the Greek, the 
other from the Latin language). Ethics is the sci- 
ence of human conduct in personal relations. It 
tells us of the facts of human life which concern human 
beings, not in respect to reasoning (logic) for example, 
not in respect to the way to make and spend money 
(economics), not in respect to setting up a government 
that will last (politics), but in respect to the common 
conduct of men toward each other in the relations of 
character. Ethics, or morals, is a more difficult science 
to define than the others which we have been naming, 
so easy is it for almost any human action to take on a 
moral bearing, i. e., to affect the welfare of other per- 
sons than the doer of the act, or to influence his own 



LIFE UNDER LAW. 29 

ethical life. But, on the other hand, the vast majority 
of acts and words and feelings which may be called 
moral or immoral are of the commonest, and are con- 
stantly happening every day. 

We live in society : not one of us can live entirely 
apart, as an isolated individual. Human society is just 
as much a fact as any single person is a fact. Men, 
we say, are social beings. Their nature marks them 
out as intended to live together, members of a family, 
of a neighborhood, of a town, of a nation, and of the 
great world of human beings. Ethics is not, of course, 
the only science of human action in society, for men 
in order to carry on trade or establish a government, 
for instance, must be living in communities, and so 
economics and politics are social sciences too ; but eth- 
ics is preeminently the most fundamental and impor- 
tant science of human life together. The art of 
morals is by far the most interesting and constant of 
all arts to universal mankind. We are all the time liv- 
ing in social relations ; society of some kind is abso- 
lutely necessary to human welfare. The science and the 
art which are concerned with the personal relations of 
the members of society to each other must thus be of 
supreme interest. Xo questions are more common than 
questions of moral goodness or badness ; no words are 
more often employed than " right " and " wrong ; " 
nothing is more thought of than the personal relations 
into which moral qualities may at any time enter ; 
nothing is of more consequence to the very existence of 
human society than virtue, or the moral life. 

It would be a very strange exception to all the rest 
of our life if these personal relations were not subject 
to law like other relations. Moral law, in the family, 
in the neighborhood, in the political organizations of 
men, is, in fact, the earliest of all laws to force itself 
upon the attention of men. Unless the social law is in 
large degree obeyed, the family would not endure, the 



30 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

State would perish, men would fly apart from one 
another and live in solitude, and civilization would thus 
become impossible. So important to the very existence 
of social life is the moral life, that we find the earliest 
codes of law were largely collections of moral precepts. 
At once, on reflection, we see how reasonable this is. 
The moral law is the law which expresses the nature of 
society ; just as the single human being must obey the 
laws of his own nature to some degree, even to live, so 
a society, a larger or smaller collection of human beings 
must obey the moral law, however imperfectly, in order 
even to exist. It may have been a very long time before 
books were written on moral science, but from the ear- 
liest days of human life on this earth there must have 
been some practical recognition of the moral law, for 
otherwise human society would have been impossible. 
To put this truth in another form, we might say that 
human nature has always been true to itself and that 
man has always acted out his own nature. 

Since we can reason about an art and imagine it car- 
ried to a perfection which only few persons, if any, 
have ever attained, we may conceive a perfect morality, 
according to certain principles, which few individuals 
have practised thoroughly at any time. There is an 
ideal excellence which may be imagined in every 
direction of human effort. Nowhere else, as a matter 
of fact, has the ideal been earlier conceived or more 
constantly held up to mankind than in this very sphere 
of conduct, however rarely it has been realized. But 
as the moral law is the very law of life of human so- 
ciety, it has always been recognized and obeyed in some 
degree. 

Mankind makes progress in morality, as in other 
arts of life, by taking heed to its ways. So strong is the 
force, however, in most human beings that makes them 
think too much of individual happiness and too little of 
the social welfare, that moral progress toward the higher 



LIFE UNDER LAW. 31 

levels of conduct is necessarily slow. But we are able 
to-day to see at least that the moral law is inscribed in 
the nature of man, that its facts are a part of the facts 
of human nature, and that obedience to it is in the line 
of the true development of human nature. We live 
under moral law as we live under physical law, under 
chemical law, under physiological law. We cannot 
escape from it, except by leaving human society, for it 
is of the very nature of that society. We find our wel- 
fare in obedience to it ; we suffer if we disobey it, 
knowingly or unknowingly. Owing to the complexity 
of many social relations we cannot be so exact in pre- 
dicting the consequences of immorality as of disobe- 
dience to the laws of health, but we may be just as con- 
fident, despite all apparent exceptions, that there is a 
moral law and that it is binding on all human beings, 
as we are that there are laws for the body, which must 
be observed if one would have good health. The first 
thing for a rational human being here to do is to 
acknowledge that he lives in every time, place, and 
condition, under law, and, most of all, under the 
moral law of universal human nature, to which he 
owes obedience. What this obedience implies we will 
consider in the next chapter. 



NOTES. 

The teacher will do well to dwell upon the great conceptions 
of modern thought, the universe governed by one law, the uni- 
formity of nature, and the inclusion of human life under law. 
He will be aided himself by such books as J. S. Mill's Logic, The 
Principles of Science, by W. S. Jevons, John Fiske's Cosmic Phi- 
losophy, and The Reign of Law, by the Duke of Argyll. The 
popular writings of Spencer, Huxley, Tyndall, and M. J. Savage, 
are full of illustrations of scientific conceptions. The following 
quotation from Professor Huxley's Science Primer ; Introductory, 



32 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

explains the meaning of the phrase " a law of nature." (The 
sight of the Statutes of the State would impress the child's mind 
forcibly.) 

" When we have made out, by careful and repeated observa- 
tion, that something is always the cause of a certain effect, or 
that certain events always take place in the same order, we speak 
of the truth thus discovered as a law of nature. ... In fact, 
everything that we know about the powers and properties of 
natural objects, and about the order of nature, may properly be 
termed a law of nature. ... A law of* man tells what we may 
expect society will do under certain circumstances, and a law of 
nature tells us what we may expect natural objects will do under 
certain circumstances. . . . Natural laws are not commands, but 
assertions respecting the invariable order of nature; and they 
remain laws only so long as they can be shown to express that 
order. To speak of the violation or the suspension of a law of 
nature is an absurdity. All that the phrase can really mean is, 
that under certain circumstances the assertion contained in the 
law is not true; and the just conclusion is, not that the order of 
nature is interrupted, but that we have made a mistake in stat- 
ing that order. A true natural law is a universal rule, and as 
such admits of no exception." 

So Montesquieu wrote: " Laws, in their most general signifi- 
cation, are the necessary relations arising from the nature of 
things. In this sense all beings have their laws." 

Here are three famous sayings by lawyers on man-made 
law: — 

"Reason is the life of law; nay, the common law itself is no- 
thing else but reason. . . . The law, which is perfection of rea- 
son." (Sir E. Coke.) 

" The absolute justice of the State, enlightened by the perfect 
reason of the State. That is law." (Rufus Choate.) 

" There is a higher law than the Constitution." (W. H. Sew- 
ard.) 

Three other great minds have thus spoken of the relations of 
law and liberty : — 

" That liberty which alone is the fruit of piety, of temperance, 
and unadulterated virtue." (Milton.) 

"Liberty must be limited in order to. be possessed." (Burke.) 

" Liberty exists in proportion to wholesome restraint." (Dan- 
iel Webster.) 



LIFE UNDER LAW. 



33 



As a popular exposition of the law of the land under which 
we live, E. P. Dole's Talks About Law is an excellent manual. 
The idea of justice is intimately connected with the political life 
of mankind, and the teacher will naturally be led into the study 
of politics as a science. Bryce's American Commonwealth, Wood- 
row Wilson's The State and Federal Governments of the United 
States, and John Fiske's American Political Ideas, are three good 
books to start with ; see the notes to Chapter XII. of this vol- 
ume. 

" Whenever a separation is made between liberty and justice, 
neither is, in my opinion, safe." — Edmund Burke. 




CHAPTER II. 
OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. , 

How do we obey what we call a physical or natu- 
ral law, and what does such obedience mean ? To 
answer these two questions, let us take some very plain 
and specific instances. Mankind has discovered, as the 
most universal of all laws of physical nature, the law 
of gravitation. This law finds expression in the facts 
of weight and of falling bodies. Like every other law 
of general nature, this is fixed and determined. We 
cannot abolish it either by our private will, or by a 
majority vote of all the people on earth. It is the force 
of gravitation, indeed, which keeps our bodies on the 
earth ! When we are to build a large house we act in 
accordance with our knowledge of gravitation by dig- 
ging deep into the ground first, and then laying the 
strongest part of the building below the surface, as a 
foundation for the rest. We do not think because we 
have but a short time for building, or because we have 
but little money to build with, or simply because " we 
happen to feel like it," that it will be well enough to go 
on fast with the work, and run up a high building with- 
out digging deep to lay a strong and heavy foundation 
wall. The power of gravitation would bring the house 
to the ground of its own weight if we did so ; and men 
would call us, as we should deserve to be called, 
" fools." 

We cannot know just how much weight to place on a 
certain foundation unless we have studied the matter in 
books, or have had much practical experience ; but, if 
we are wise, we consult those who do know, and build 



OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 35 

accordingly. We should be very foolish, indeed, if we 
had such an idea of our own importance as to think 
that the natural force would be modified, or fail to act 
as it usually does, because it is we who have built the 
house, however unwisely. " Shall gravitation cease if 
you go by ? " writes the poet. Xo ! it will not cease ; 
and your bad building will fall, and perhaps crush you 
in its falling. We obey this natural law of gravitation 
by building as experienced men tell us we must build if 
we would be sure that our house stand firm. We have 
no choice in the matter. Stone and wood and iron, and 
the earth on which they rest, will act according to the 
laws of their own natures, and they will pay no atten- 
tion to our fond wishes, our caprices, or our ignorance. 
They are all under universal law ; they are parts of one 
whole, — the universe of things, — and they act accord- 
ingly, each in its sphere. We, too, must so act wisely, 
with a knowledge of law and according to law, if we 
would have our houses stand. People cannot build 
" just as they please " and have good houses that will 
last. Success is the result of conformity to natural law 
here ; it is shown by the fact that the house endures 
and is strong. Failure and disaster are the result of 
neglect of natural law or conscious disobedience, — the 
house falls flat. 

In our next example let us come home to ourselves, 
as human beings in animal bodies. Human physiology 
is the name we give to the science which brings together 
the facts which men have discovered by long and care- 
ful study of the human body. They have found out 
"the laws of physiology." These are the expression, 
in a few words comparatively, of the facts as to the 
ways in which the bodily forces work constantly in us. 
In accordance with their knowledge of the working of 
muscles and nerves and stomach and brain and all the 
other bodily parts and organs, the doctors tell us that 
we must do so and so if we would preserve the bodily 



36 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

health, which is so indispensable a condition of human 
happiness and prosperity. They give the name Hygiene 
to the set of practical rules and directions about eat- 
ing and drinking, breathing, sleeping, work and play, 
and other functions, which are founded on their study 
of physiology. If one follows these rules he will prob- 
ably enjoy good health ; if he does not follow them he 
is altogether likely to be sick or infirm. Of course, this 
matter of good health is very much more complicated 
than the matter of building a house so that it will stand 
firm. There are very many more things to be taken into 
consideration, and there are, apparently, a great many 
exceptions to what we call " the laws of health," because 
the conditions under which people live are so various. 

But we need not doubt, first, that there are laws of 
health ; and second, that we know a good deal about 
them, amply enough to show us what our bodily habits, 
as a rule, should be. One law, for example, is that our 
lungs should have pure air to breathe, and that they be- 
come weakened or diseased if we breathe the same air 
over and over. Now a farmer who works outdoors 
all the summer day may sleep in a small and poorly- 
ventilated room, and may not appear to suffer very 
much from bad air. He does not suffer so much, at 
any rate, as a man would who has to work all day in a 
close factory or machine shop. This difference does 
not affect the fact that pure air is always best for the 
lungs of every one, or the truth that because of this 
fact we should pay attention to ventilation in our 
houses and workshops. The Black Hole of Calcutta is 
the well-known instance of the absolute necessity of a 
certain amount of pure air merely to sustain the animal 
life. But the laws of hygiene in regard to pure air are 
confirmed in our common experience when the results 
of inattention are less tragical. Bad air produces head- 
ache and languor and a low tone of bodily spirits. Such 
effects as these we cannot get rid of simply by wishing 



OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 37 

them away. We must change our habits with regard 
to the ventilation of our houses and work-places, the 
amount of exercise we take in the open air, and like 
matters. We have no choice. Our personal inclina- 
tions are not important in the case. We must have 
habits that are in conformity with our knowledge of the 
need of good, pure air ; otherwise, we shall suffer for 
our nonconformity or disobedience. 

So we might go on to speak of the rules of hygiene 
about eating and drinking, about sleep, and the work of 
hand or head. But the principle is one and the same 
throughout. Obedience to the laws of hygiene means 
conforming our actions to our knowledge of these 
iaws, so as to be healthy and, so far, happy. The wise 
man values health very greatly. He knows that he did 
not make the rules of health and that he cannot unmake 
them. They are " bottom facts " of human nature, 
which all mankind cannot destroy. We must, then, if 
we wish to be well and strong and have a good animal 
life, submit ourselves to the guidance of those who 
know the laws of hygiene and learn of them how to fix 
our habits. 

We have always to bear in mind that we shall thus 
attain, by acting in accordance with the laws of things, 
all the happiness and prosperity which things can give 
us. Obedience is the highway to welfare. We do not 
give up our own whims and follies and submit to the 
rule of facts and law merely in order to discipline our- 
selves, without regard to the result. Precisely the con- 
trary is true. The happy, prosperous life would be 
impossible without conformity to the laws of human 
nature ; therefore, the sooner we learn what these laws 
are, and obey them in our practice, the larger will be 
the measure of our welfare. The service of natural law 
is perfect freedom ; it is the highest liberty we can con- 
ceive. Universal nature is under the reign of law, as 
Ulysses says in " Troilus and Cressida " : — 



38 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

1 ' The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre 
Observe degree, priority, and place, 
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, 
Office and custom, in all line of order.' ' 

Now what do we mean especially by moral law ? 
When we speak these two words we imply that the 
actions, the whole life, of human beings in their rela- 
tions to one another are under law ; that there are rules 
for social welfare and individual happiness which, as 
men have discovered by long experience, are entitled to 
be called laws of human conduct, and that these are 
not dependent on any person's caprice or whim or fancy, 
but are the consequence of the great facts of the nature 
of man living in society. We are not free, under the 
reign of moral law, to " do as we please," any more 
than we are free to observe the law of gravitation in 
house-building or the laws of health, or not, just as we 
feel inclined. We must obey, or we shall suffer the 
penalty for disobedience. 

There are moral laws which have to be observed in 
the family, in the school, in every kind of association 
of men with other human beings, whether it be common 
social intercourse, business relationship, or the life of 
the citizens of the town, state, or nation. Men come 
together to live in families and other larger groups 
through a fundamental instinct ; it is one of the 
strongest laws of their nature that they should so do. 
Every one of these groups has its conditions of life, 
which must be observed if it is even to exist, and other 
conditions also which must be observed if it is to pros- 
per. Hence there is moral law for the family, moral 
law for the neighborhood, moral law for the school, for 
the state, for all kinds of associations. It is of the 
very nature of all these bodies of men that their mem- 
bers mast act in certain ways if the associations are to 
continue. In the family, for example, the weak and 
helpless children must for years be cared for, and sup- 



OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 39 

ported by their parents. As children do not of them- 
selves know how to act wisely and live happily for all 
concerned, they have to obey their parents, who will 
teach them to act in snch ways as to make life in the 
family what it should be, — peaceful, active, and happy. 
Fathers and mothers in their place should act according 
to the laws of the moral life of the family, by support- 
ing and training and loving their children. Children 
have their part to do in returning their parents' love 
and rendering a cheerful obedience to their wishes. As 
boys and girls grow up they will understand better 
and better the reasons avIiv they are obliged to do thus 
and so. But, whether they understand it or not, they 
must obey the moral law as it comes to them from 
the lips of their parents. The bond that holds the 
family together is this very power of the father and 
mother to make their children u mind/' by force, if 
need be. 

We say the word " ought n very frequently : it means 
" owe," and whenever we use it we imply that the per- 
son of whom we speak has a debt to pay. Children 
are under great obligations to their parents ; for these 
give them food and shelter and clothing and education 
and all the love and help of home. They owe a gre^at 
deal to father and mother, who gave them life, and will 
do their best to make their lives fruitful and happy. 
So boys and girls ought (owe it) to do all they can in 
return to make life at home pleasant and cheerful for 
their parents. So, likewise, men and women owe a 
great deal to the human society in which they are liv- 
ing, and which is the source of very much of their hap- 
piness and welfare. They owe it to one another (ought) 
to be polite, to be ready to assist in case of need, to 
take an interest in each other's well-being, and in* all 
their relations to give as well as take. 

" Duty " is another great word of the law which is over 
all men living together in society. Our duty is what is 



40 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

due from us to others : so it means the same thing as 
" ought." " Ought " and " duty " — two of the greatest 
words in our language — always indicate that we live 
in society, that there are laws and conditions of social 
welfare, as of individual happiness, and that whatever 
these laws require men and women to do, in order that 
society may be strong and pure and netful to each per- 
son who is a member of it, this all men and women owe 
to society ; this they ought to do ; this is their duty. 
"Each for all, all for each," is the proper motto of 
human society. It is a whole in which each of us is a 
part ; and each must act, not as if he or she were the 
centre of all things, but as if recognizing that we are 
to do each his part and to take each his portion. It is 
the natural function of the child, the scholar, the ser- 
vant, the workman and the soldier, to act according to 
orders, — to obey parents, teachers, masters, foremen, or 
officers. These command in the interest of the family, 
the school, the factory, or the army-regiment as a 
whole ; they are themselves subject to the moral law 
of these associations, and if they command by right, 
they also have the duty, they ought to provide for those 
who obey their orders. 

The end of all obedience to the moral law is the high- 
est and greatest welfare of every human being as an 
individual and as a member of the great body which we 
call human society. This is a body, an organism, in 
w T hich each of us is a member. 1 If every child took its 
own way, with out regard to the advice or the command of 
its parents, the true family life would be impossible ; if 
every scholar did as he pleased about studying or recit- 
ing, the very reason for having schools at all would be 
defeated ; if servants obeyed orders from their masters 
or mistresses only when they " felt like it," little work 
would be done ; if men in a factory acted according to 

1 Compare St. Paul (First Epistle to the Corinthians, xii. 14-26), and 
Menenius Agrippa in Shakespeare's Coriolanus, I. i. 



OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 41 

their own fancy, and idled or worked as the humor 
seized them, the factory would soon have to be closed 
and the men would receive no more wages ; if every 
private in a company acted as if he were just " as big a 
man" as the captain, there would be no use in trying to 
fight a battle. Thus the welfare of the whole house- 
hold, of the whole school, of the whole factory, and of 
the whole company of soldiers depends upon obedience 
to those in authority. Every person in authority, in his 
turn, is bound in duty (ought) to work for the welfare 
of each and all of those who make up the whole body 
of which he has the control. We do not obey for the 
sake of obedience ; we do not command for the sake of 
commanding, but whether we obey or command, we do 
it that each person may reach his highest happiness 
and welfare, both as an individual and as a part of 
society. 

Disobedience means disorder in all the associations of 
men with one another ; it means lawlessness, self-will, 
the setting-up of ourselves as the whole, or as the most 
important part of the whole ; it means that we ask other 
people to take our will for law, instead of the moral. 
law. But this will not do in the relations of human 
beings with one another, any more than it would do in 
our relations with natural forces. Society, therefore, in 
order to preserve itself and so give its members (you 
and me and all of us) the best things that human life 
can afford, enforces moral law. Soine parts of this law, 
such as those which forbid killing and robbing, are 
written down in that " law of the land" or "statute 
law," which we began by speaking of. Other com- 
mands of the moral law men have found it best not to 
try to enforce by written laws, but to leave to what we 
call public opinion to deal with. Thus, if a man is 
unkind and harsh in his treatment of his children, the 
law will not do anything to him so long as he is not 
actually cruel. Most men are influenced very much by 



42 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

what other people think and say concerning them, and 
we find by experience that many wrongs are righted 
more effectually by leaving them to public opinion to 
settle than by passing laws against them. 

Still other parts of the moral law we leave to each 
person to discover and obey for himself, according to 
his circumstances, his education and his moral sense. 
But whatever is actual moral law, tending to the wel- 
fare of each and all, is to be obeyed ; whether we know 
the law or not, we suffer bad consequences from not 
living in compliance with its demands, or we prosper 
because we are acting in accordance with it. For man 
the end of all obedience to law is his welfare ; he lives 
under law, and he finds freedom and happiness, not in 
fighting against the conditions, physical or moral, of 
human life, but in full and cheerful acceptance of them. 
Freedom is not in " having our own way," but in follow- 
ing the best ways that mankind, in its thousands of 
years of life on this earth, has discovered. Freedom is 
realized in life according to the laws of human nature 
in society. Life through obedience to reason and all 
that reason tells us of law — this is moral life, the life 
that renders human society possible, and makes it better 
and better as we learn more of the moral law and obey 
it more faithfully. The natural rulers of human so- 
ciety are those who know more of life than ourselves ; 
so we should respect the laws which have been ascer- 
tained by the wisdom and experience of many minds ; 
Ave should respect the voice of public opinion in regard 
to matters of right and wrong. When we have been 
educated by experience of life ourselves, we shall still 
find that the moral law is supreme over every other law 
for man, as it is simply the highest law of our own nature. 
Desire to know this law and willingness to obey it — 
this is the fundamental matter in human life. The 
spirit that is essential to our highest welfare is the 
spirit of obedience. Our first lesson is to obey father 



OBEDIESCE TO MORAL LAW. 43 

and mother at home, but we never outgrow the necessity 
of obedience to moral law. 

" Who is it thwarts and bilks the inward must ? 
He and his works like sand from earth are blown." 



NOTES. 



The desire to command, or the love of power, is one of the 
fundamental desires in human nature; with many persons it is 
predominant. Obedience is not in itself pleasant to children, or 
to men and women. But there are few leaders and many fol- 
lowers in human life. Napoleon, the most masterful of men, 
declared that he learned to command through the obedience re- 
quired at the school of Brienne, and Emerson says that " obe- 
dience alone gives the right to command." The more perfectly 
parents seek to carry out the law of the home, and teachers the 
law of the school, which prescribe duties to themselves, the more 
capable will they be of commanding wisely. Children are quick 
to observe the evil consequences of disobedience at home or in 
school when their own conduct is not in question. Press home 
to them the reasons for the very existence of such associations, 
which are defeated by insubordination. The military drill fur- 
nishes a good analogy; the lives of great generals and the his- 
tories of wars are full of incidents illustrating the prime need of 
obedience. All associations for profit or pleasure must have 
leaders, and the submission we pay them is but a type of the 
obedience mankind owes to the whole moral law. 

The great Stoic moralists, like Marcus Aurelius and Epic- 
tetus, have dwelt forcibly on the virtue of obedience. The in- 
scription on the monument at Thermopylae ran: " Go, stranger, 
and tell at Lacedseinon that we died here in obedience to her 
laws." The citizen of the ancient city was a devotee to its wel- 
fare. So A. H. Clough has said: " The highest political watch- 
word is not liberty, equality, fraternity, nor yet solidarity, but 
service" The Wisdom of Solomon declares that, " The very true 
beginning of wisdom is the desire of discipline. If a man love 
righteousness, wisdom's labors are virtues; for she teacheth tem- 
perance and prudence, justice and fortitude ; which are such 
things as men can have nothing more profitable in their life." 



44 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

Men become masters of the forces of nature by first obeying 
their laws; so in morality, "laws are not masters, but servants, 
and he rules them who obeys them.' , (H. W. Beecher.) 

See Miss E. Simcox's Natural Law; James Martineau's Types 
of Ethical Theory, vol. ii. chapter 4, and Leslie Stephen's Science 
of Ethics, for discussions of the ground of authority in the moral 
law, and Lecky's European Morals, for a good view of Stoi- 
cism. 

" I slept and dreamed that life was beauty ; 
I woke and found that life was duty." 

Duty is changed to delight when love is seen to be " the ful- 
filling of the law." 



CHAPTER III. 

SELF-CONTROL. 

It is very easy for us to say that we all ought to obey 
the moral law. But very often, and especially when we 
are young and have not had much experience of life, we 
find it hard to obey this law ourselves. Children like 
to have their own way when it seems to them pleasanter 
than to obey their parents or teachers who bid them 
take another way. John, for instance, is playing mar- 
bles, and his mother tells him to come and get read}' for 
school, as he has only time enough to get there in season. 
But John prefers play to school, just then ; perhaps he 
prefers it all the time ! So he keeps on with his game, 
and his mother has to leave her work to speak to him 
again, and possibly she is obliged to come out and make 
him get ready at once. Then he is late at school, and 
probably he has got to feeling so ill-tempered, because 
he has been compelled to leave his game, that he will 
not study, and so he fails in his lesson, and the teacher 
keeps him after school to make it up. John feels 
worse than ever, and when he gets through he is dis- 
gusted with school and home, and he thinks it will be 
very fine to be a man and do as he pleases. All this is 
the result of his disobedience to his mother. But men 
and women laugh at him, and tell him that he is very 
foolish not to see how easy a time he is having now ; his 
father and mother care for him, and he does not have to 
work to get his food and lodging and clothing and edu- 
cation. They are doing their utmost to make his life, 
present and future, good and happy ; being much older, 
having been children themselves, and having gained 



46 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

much more wisdom from experience than he can have, 
they know far more thoroughly what is best for him 
than he can know. When he is grown up, and is a man 
in fact, not merely in imagination, he will have a man's 
work to do, and he should have plenty of knowledge and 
skill to do that work well ; he will not be able to " do 
as he pleases " and at the same time be a good and 
capable man. 

A considerable number of persons who think they can 
do as they please find themselves, naturally, after a 
time, in jails or prisons, because people in general will 
not allow them to do as they like, when it comes to 
stealing or cheating, or doing bodily injury to others. 
No ! the obedience due to father and mother and teacher 
is comparatively a simple and easy matter for John, 
if he did but know it. He is acting foolishly and un- 
reasonably in setting himself up so, as the only person 
whose pleasure is to be considered. As a matter of fact, 
he is not so important a person as he thinks, and the 
sooner he learns this, the better it will be for all con- 
cerned. 

Here is another boy, Thomas, who likes to play just 
as well as John does ; but he loves his mother and de- 
sires to make her happy by obeying her cheerfully and 
readily. He wishes to please the teacher by being 
punctual, and attentive to his studies in school time. So 
he quits his game at once, when his mother reminds him 
that she has an errand for him to do on the way to 
school, and that it is time to go. He walks along whis- 
tling and thinking how fortunate he is that he can some- 
times do little things, at least, to show his gratitude for 
all that his mother does for him in her love for her boy< 
When he gets to school he remembers that he is there 
to study ; he puts all his mind on his book ; the lesson 
comes easy, he recites well, the teacher is glad to see 
him so willing and ready, and he returns home with a 
light heart. All has gone well with him during the day. 



SELF-CONTROL. 47 

Why ? Because he has cheerfully done his part. It 
is not a great part, but it is something which no one else 
could do for hini, and it is necessary that he should do 
it readily if, at home and school, all is to go on pleas- 
antly and profitably. 

When Thomas is at home, he feels that he is but one 
among several persons who make up the family ; that 
his father and mother are wiser than he and anxious to 
have him do, and to do for him, only what is best ; and 
that all goes well only when each one in the family 
group thinks of the welfare of all the others as well as 
of his own happiness ; so he tries to do his share, to 
help as much as he can in making life happy for all at 
home. When Thomas is at school, he bears in mind 
that school is meant as a place to learn in, and that 
in order to learn well he must leave off playing, and 
" buckle down " to his book, and be quiet and obey the 
orders of the teacher. He sees that these orders are for 
the good of the whole school, of which he is a part and 
only a part, and that nothing could be more unreasonable 
than for him to neglect study and be noisy and mis- 
chievous, thus keeping the teacher's attention on him- 
self and disturbing the rest of the scholars in their 
duty. Thomas is a healthy, lively boy, who likes to 
play and have a good time. But he wishes others to 
have a good time too ; such " good times " in school 
mean good order, and good lessons, and teachers and 
scholars all pleased and busy with the good work to be 
done by them, in learning and teaching. That is a good 
time anywhere, when the thing to do in that time and 
place is done finely and thoroughly. Xow Thomas plays 
with all his soul in play-hours, and in the place and 
time for study he studies with all his might. He has a 
strong impulse to play too long, or in school, but he 
resists it — as we can resist any impulse in ourselves if 
we will — and conquers it, and the better impulse wins 
the day. 



48 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

We have had much to say about obedience to law 
as the foundation of all good human life. But we all 
have inclinations at times to prefer our own wishes or 
desires, however unreasonable they may be, to the obe- 
dience which though reasonable seems hard and dis- 
agreeable. We are so made that there is often this con- 
flict between what we know to be the proper thing fo« 
us to do and the thing we wish at the time to do. We 
must, therefore, learn to control ourselves ; we must 
practise the very necessary art of making ourselves do 
what is disagreeable, if it seems to us the right and 
reasonable thing, until it shall come to be not only right 
and reasonable but also agreeable to us, for this very 
cause. This is precisely what we often have to do in 
other matters than our dealings with human beings. 

We need training in the art of conduct as in every 
other art. Mary has musical talent and she is anxious 
to learn to play the piano-forte. So her father buys one 
and engages a teacher for her ; and the first lessons are 
very pleasant. But after a time, Mary gets tired of 
scales and exercises, and begins to think that it is not 
" worth while." She is discouraged and talks of giving 
up. But others tell her, she can see herself, that ex- 
cellence in piano-playing comes to most persons only 
through diligence and patience in mastering the ele- 
ments. She is soon encouraged to find that she can 
play simple exercises without keeping her eyes on the 
keys ; after a time she can play easy tunes without 
notes, and, if she continues to persevere, she comes in 
time to do almost automatically what was once very 
difficult for her. She is amused now at the recollection 
that she ever found a certain exercise hard to play. 
Mary has fully complied with the conditions of excel- 
lence in music. She controls her desire to give up and 
try something easier. She perseveres and conquers the ' 
difficulties, one by one. By " sticking to it " and prac- 
tising and practising, she establishes what are called 



SELF-CONTROL. 49 

"lines of least resistance ; " her fingers move swiftly 
over the keys, she acquires skill in her art, and she finds 
future progress much easier in proportion, as her self- 
control increases. 

"With all our different characters and dispositions few 
of us find it easy to do always the thing that we know 
to be right. We must, then, if we are to acquire the 
fine art of good conduct, learn self-control, and this im- 
plies patience and perseverance. By practice we shall 
establish " lines of least resistance " in our relations 
with others, over which we shall in time move with an 
ease and freedom that will surprise ourselves. 

Self-control is necessary to obedience to the laws of 
conduct. But it is not necessary that we should have a 
sense of effort and difficulty in doing what we call 
"right," in order that it should be truly right or " vir- 
tuous '- in us. On the contrary, the ideal we should al- 
ways hold before ourselves is to make the doing of right 
deeds, the living of a virtuous life, the easiest and 
most agreeable thing to do. In the beginning. Ave 
have pains and trouble in making our habits better, 
until they are right and good in certain respects ; then 
habit slowly becomes a second nature, taking the place 
of the former untrained and undisciplined nature, 1 until, 
at last, it is " as easy now for the heart to be true As for 
grass to be green or skies to be blue, — ? T is the natural 
way of living." We need to practise self-control until 
the self is altered for the better — we can alter it — 
and then, when it is changed for the better, it may well 
have free play in that direction. A hasty-tempered man 
might find it hard at first to wait and count a hundred 
according to the old rule, before he speaks, when he 
feels himself getting angry. But in time he should be 
strong enough, from long resistance to his native im- 
pulse, to trust himself to speak at once. 

1 " Habit a second nature,'' said the gTeat Duke of Wellington 
" it is ten times nature ! ' ' 



r> 



50 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

In every art the acquirement of skill and excellence 
implies discipline, and discipline means patience and 
self-control. Most of all in the art of arts, at which we 
are continually practising, the art of a noble life, is the 
desire of discipline "the very true beginning of wis- 
dom." On the other hand, it is the height of unwisdom 
to ask continually : " Why should I control myself ? 
Why should I not have my own way ? " This would not 
be so foolish if you were the only person in the world, 
and there were no one else to be affected by your actions. 
In that case, you might properly do many things which 
it is not right or reasonable for you to do in a world 
where you are surrounded by many other human beings. 
These other persons you expect to be considerate of the 
fact that you yourself exist, and that they owe you 
something, as another human being, in all their rela- 
tions with you. When you are ready to say that others 
owe you nothing, then you can ask why you owe it 
to them to control yourself, to abate your extravagant 
claims, and to be content with }^our reasonable portion 
of good things. Each of these other persons has a 
"self" also, which he is bound to preserve and care 
for, according to the instinct of nature and the teach- 
ings of reason. 

Very many things which are necessary to our life, to 
our progress, and to our comfort, we can do for ourselves 
better than any one else, or perhaps any number of 
other persons can do them for us. It is natural" and 
right that we should " assert ourselves," and claim what 
is needful for living our human life. Nature makes 
this instinct of self-regard exceedingly strong in' each 
one of us, and it is one of two or three fundamental 
forces in directing all our actions. Man is chiefly dis- 
tinguished from the lower animals, however, in that he 
can reason to himself about this instinct of self-preser- 
vation and self-regard and the great instinct of regard 
for others (sympathy) which is just as much a part of 



SELF-CONTROL. 51 

our nature, and can determine what is the proper place 
for each motive in his actions. 

Constant experience teaches us very plainly how much 
stronger the natural instinct of self-assertion is than the 
other instincts which lead us to forget self in thinking 
of others. So we learn that the essential spirit of 
morality is self-control by reason. Morality holds 
us back from making a self-assertion that is "exorbi- 
tant " (i. e., which takes us out of our proper " orbit ") ; 
it gives us a more moderate notion of what others 
should do for us (i. e., of what we call our rights), and 
it stimulates us to do what we ought, what we really 
owe to others (i. e., our duties). There is no rule for 
determining rights and duties but the rule of reason, as 
in all other human affairs. Men, however, have been 
living in social relations so many generations that they 
have found out a great many facts and laws of conduct. 
They have acquired a large amount of practical wisdom 
and of moral " faculty " which has been handed down 
from one generation to another, each increasing it. 

A new person coming into the world does not need, 
therefore, to try all kinds of actions to find out which 
are hurtful and which are helpful to himself and others. 
But he should be docile, i. e., teachable, and willing to 
learn what things have already been found good to do, 
and what things have been found to be bad. To be 
docile is to have such self-control that Ave shall not set 
ourselves up as wiser than everybody else. "We need to 
live long before we can do wisely in contradicting or 
correcting any of the simple practical rules for common 
conduct which men ages ago found out, and which mil- 
lions of human beings have learned are reasonable by 
trying to live according to them. These moral precepts 
are working laws of human conduct, which are gradu- 
ally extended and made definite in the long course of 
human experience. It has thus become natural for civ- 
ilized men to live obedient to moral law as to physical 



52 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

law. But not all men are civilized. No one is really 
civilized until he has learned to know himself, in some 
degree at least, as a part of the social order, and to fit 
himself by self-control for his place in this order. 

We are not called upon by reason to sacrifice our- 
selves in the common relations of social life, but rather 
to preserve ourselves wisely, and to make the best 
and the most of ourselves, keeping in view the good 
of each and the good of all. Human society is made up 
of as many " selves " as there are persons in it. Each of 
these selves appears, usually, to itself to be much more 
important and deserving of consideration than it does 
to others. This is a common fact of human nature, 
which is seen to be justifiable in reason when we con- 
sider the further fact that each one of these " selves " 
has the chief responsibility of caring for itself. There 
is, therefore, a very proper " selfhood " * for each and 
every human being ; his self-existing, with no need of 
excuse, is a most important fact to him. 

We need to cultivate and develop ourselves ; self- 
culture is both an end in itself and an essential means 
to helping others most effectually. As a part of this 
development and cultivation, the control of self by our 
knowledge, by our reason, by our social instinct, by 
sympathy, by the Golden Eule, is of the first impor- 
tance. We do not think of standing on our heads as a 
regular exercise or as a common position. Our feet are 
the parts of our body meant to walk with, and to stand 
on. So our minds are given us to use in discovering 
the laws of human life ; and the laws of right conduct, 
when once discovered, are no less natural than the prac- 
tice of walking on our feet. The general moral law of 
self-control means that any and every force in us — of 

1 Just as we say "childhood" and "manhood," not blaming or 
praising the child, because it is a child, or the man because he is a 
man Dr. Dewey was wise in advising the restoration of the word to 
present usage. 



SELF-CONTROL. 53 

feeling or passion or temper — must be kept obedient to 
our enlightened reason and our disciplined will. Reason 
teaches us, for example, to prefer a larger to a smaller 
good, and to subordinate the brief present to the long 
future. Education, therefore, is better for a child than 
unlimited play, because it will outgrow the desire for 
play, and its childhood will give place to manhood, and 
this should be instructed and capable, as only years of 
previous education can make it. 



NOTES. 

Self-control should be taken to mean restraint of the lower 
self, — the animal, sensual, auti-social instincts and tendencies. 
The higher, nobler self, that finds its true life in the life of all, 
is thus free to emerge and assert itself with power. The higher 
self is to take the lower self in hand, and show its own ability 
to shape thought, feeling, and action toward an ideal excellence. 
(See the treatment of the Will by the various writers on ethics, 
such as Noah Porter in his Elements of Moral Science.) In this 
process the lower self is not sacrificed, but simply confined to its 
own sphere. An admirable discussion of this point is the lecture 
on Selfhood and Sacrifice, by Rev. Dr. Orville Dewey, in the vol- 
ume entitled Christianity and Modern Thought. 

The formation of good habits is the obvious step toward 
diminishing the difficulty of self-control. As Walter Bagehot 
says, the first step in the moral culture of the child is " to 
secrete a crust of custom." J. F. Clarke in his Self-Culture is 
especially good on the education of the will. " Self-reliance, 
self-restraint, self-control, self-direction, these constitute an edu- 
cated will. . . . Freedom is self-direction. The two diseases of 
the will are indecision, or weakness of will, and wilfulness, or 
unregulated strength of will. The cure for both is self-direction, 
according to conscience and truth." 

Read The Conquerors Grave, by Bryant ; " Prune thou thy 
words," by J. H. Newman ; " How happy is he born or taught," 
by Sir Henry Wotton ; Emerson's lines, closing, 

" When Duty whispers low, i Thou must/ 
The youth replies, ' I can ; ' " 



54 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

and Matthew Arnold's Morality, 

" Tasks in hours of insight willed 
Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled." 

He that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a 
city; so the lives of famous inventors teach us, as they bend all 
things to serve their aim. See Mr. Smiles's Lives of the Ste- 
phensons, Men of Invention and Industry, and Life and Labor, 
for instances of this truth. 



CHAPTEE IV. 
TRUTHFULNESS. 

"We have thus far been attending to the great facts 
that all human life is under law ; that one of the most 
important laws for man, if not the most important, is 
the moral law which springs from his very nature as a 
member of society ; and that we are obliged, as we are 
also able, to govern or control ourselves so as to live 
according to this law. We have been speaking of the 
actual world of nature and human society in which 
we all live. Now, a very large part of our life depends 
for its character and its results upon what we report to 
each other about what is or has been. We have by na- 
ture the faculty of speech by which we communicate with 
each other, and we have found out the arts of writing 
and printing. But we have not only eyes to see and 
ears to hear, and the organs of three other senses, which 
present to our minds the realities of the outward world ; 
we have also a faculty of imagination by which we can 
form to ourselves another view of things than that 
which our senses actually give, or have given us. T >Ye 
can think of things otherwise than as they are. TTe can 
use words to express our thoughts so that we shall in 
our speech re-present to others the realities we know, 
or we can alter them in our speech so that our words 
will not correspond to the facts as we think them to be. 

AYe call it speaking the truth when any one de- 
scribes things as they, in fact, appear to him to be, or 
relates events as his senses showed them to him. He 
may be mistaken, as his senses or his judgment may 
have misled him ; but so long as he intends to re-pre^ 



56 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

sent fact, he is truthful. On the contrary, when, for 
any cause, he means to speak, and does speak, of things 
or events as they were not, or are not, then he is false. 
He intends to deceive us, whether he succeeds in doing 
so or not. The first and natural use of words, or hu- 
man speech, is to represent reality. We are in a very 
high degree dependent on each other's words as to what 
the facts of life are. A large part, probably the largest 
part, of our own words and actions are based upon our 
confidence that other human beings have spoken to us 
the truth. 

In courts of law the witness who is called upon to 
state what he knows about the case, swears, or affirms, 
that he will tell " the truth, the whole truth, and no- 
thing but the truth." In ordinary life we go upon the 
assumption, generally, that the words we hear corre- 
spond to fact, that people are re-presenting to us the 
facts as they are, or have been. ; and Ave act in accord- 
ance with this confidence. We must live in an actual 
world : we cannot live in an imaginary world, as it has 
no reality. All our own words that are based upon a 
falsehood told us by another, instead of a truth, have 
no foundation in fact, and must, therefore, count for 
little or nothing in the end. All that we do, thinking 
and believing that a certain other thing has been done, 
because w^e have been told so, when, in fact, it has not 
been done, lacks proper foundation, and is likely to 
come to naught, or to work harm instead of good. A 
true report of facts is, then, the first condition of satis- 
factory intercourse of human beings with one another. 
They must have a substantial confidence in one an- 
other's general truthfulness. Otherwise, they can have 
little dealing with one another. All human undertak- 
ings must finally rest upon reality, and correspond to 
fact ; every departure from fact means for all men loss 
and harm. 

Hence arises the prime necessity of truthfulness in 



TR U THFULNJESS. 5 7 

human society. In the great majority of cases, men 
naturally tell the truth ; L e., whether it is to their own 
advantage or not, they re-present things in speech as 
these have appeared to them in reality. If this were 
not the case, social life, in which men inevitably depend 
upon one another for information and guidance, would 
be impossible. But, on the other hand, it is very much 
easier to say a false "word, thus misrepresenting fact 
in some degree, than it is to do any one of a hundred 
wrong acts. More than this : when we have con- 
sciously done a bad deed, we usually wish to avoid the 
consequences of it, and we naturally try to escape them 
by lying about it. So offences against truth are the 
common attendants of wrong actions of a thousand 
kinds. " Vice has many tools," it is said ; " but a lie is 
the handle that fits them all." 

AYe wish our clocks and watches to give us the true 
time — the hour and minute that actually are, as distin- 
guished from those that have been and those to come. 
So we ask that other human beings shall give us " true 
time " in what they say to us. If the clock is an hour 
slow or half an hour fast, we cannot blame the clock, 
for it is only a machine, and cannot think, or be said to 
have any intention to deceive us so that we shall miss 
a train or be late at school : we properly find fault with 
the maker of the clock or with the jeweller who should 
have regulated it so that it would keep good time. But 
boys and girls and men and women think ; they have an 
intention in what they say, and if they tell us what is 
not true, it is usually because they mean to mislead 
us. The result of their attempts to deceive us is that 
we lose that confidence which is the very first condition 
of human dealings. A boy who is found to have told a 
lie is often suspected afterward of deceiving even when 
he has no desire or intention of reporting anything but 
the exact fact. When a witness has taken an oath in a 
court of law to tell "the truth, the whole truth, and 



58 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

nothing but the truth/' and then tells a falsehood, 
known or afterwards found out to be such, he is pun- 
ished for perjury ; and if he should ever come into court 
again as a witness, everybody would be slow to believe 
him in an important matter. When a man has the 
reputation of being " the biggest liar in the town," what 
he says may very often be entirely true ; but people do 
not believe that a thing is so because he says it. He 
has forfeited the confidence of those who know him, 
and they will not accept his sole word as probably true. 
He is put out of the pale of society, so to speak, in 
proportion to the greatness of his offences against truth, 
and non-intercourse with him is practically declared. 

The person who tells a lie which is believed by people 
who have not yet " found him out," usually begins to 
think that a falsehood is a very easy substitute for the 
fact. A boy, for example, has disobeyed his father, who 
had commanded him not to go in swimming in the river 
because it is dangerous ; when he is asked if he has 
been in the river, he boldly answers, " No." Thus he 
adds to his first fault a second. As his father believes 
him, John is quite likely to try the same plan again, 
until, at last, he is found out. Then his father punishes 
him for the disobedience and the lie ; but the worst 
part of the whole punishment to John, if he is a self- 
respecting boy, is that his father and mother will proba- 
bly not take his word as sufficient, in any matter of 
consequence, for some time to come, until he has shown 
that he is again to be trusted fully. But for John, or 
any one else, to deceive thus, and then ask people to 
treat him afterward as if he had always spoken the 
truth, is most unreasonable. If John were a man in a 
position of responsibility and were detected in lying, he 
would probably be turned out of his place at once, be- 
cause the truth is one of the first things he owes his 
employer. When "thought is speech and speech is 
truth " we can trust each other and join together with 



TRUTHFULNESS. 59 

confidence in all kinds of undertakings, great or small. 
But when the act is one thing and the word is another 
different or contrary thing, we stand apart from such a 
man in suspicion and distrust, and we refuse to work 
with him, since truthfulness is of the very essence of 
voluntary association in all kinds of works. 

Our house of life must be built upon fact, or it will 
fall. When we repeat " Great is truth and mighty 
above all things," we mean to say that the facts of this 
universe are far stronger than any mistaken or false re- 
port of them which any one may make. They will 
come to the light at last, since the mind of man is evi- 
dently intended to know the truth, i. e., the reality of 
things. Any one, therefore, who tells us the truth, in 
small matters or in large, enables us so far to bring our 
life into harmony with the laws of all life in general 
and of human life in society in particular. He clears 
the way so that we can walk in it, if we will. But if 
another human being deceives us, we are led off from 
the right road, as when some one misdirects a traveller, 
and he goes the opposite way to that which he desires 
to take, or in any other direction which is wrong for 
him, and it costs him much time and trouble to find the 
right way. 

To tell the truth is, then, the first of services we 
can render one another in the great association which 
we call human society. Knowledge must come before 
action. But as we can know from our own observation 
but a very small part of all that we need to know, we 
mainly depend upon others' report of facts and events 
in order to act wisely and properly. Lord Bacon said : 
"Xo pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the 
vantage ground of truth." This is, indeed, the case. 
When we tell the truth we are in harmony and union 
with the whole universe so far ; but when we tell a lie 
we leave the world of reality, the only world that is, and 
enter a world of unreality which we have, for a brief 



60 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

time, created, so to speak, out of nothing, and which has 
only the substance of nothingness in it. We may add lie 
to lie in order to make a consistent story and gain belief 
for the time. But the facts are against us : we know 
it ourselves. It is not as if we had simply made a mis- 
take. We have deliberately directed our fellow-beings 
wrong on the way of life ; we have given them incorrect 
time, and we have tried to raise around them a false 
world. They cannot fail to discover the deception 
sometime. Indignation, with a long loss of confidence ; 
constant suspicion, even when we are telling the truth, 
and great difficulty in all their dealings with us, are 
the natural and inevitable results of such lying. 

The person who lies gives way to a temptation too 
strong for him at the time. A boy who has broken a 
pane of glass in a window, while playing ball, is afraid 
that he will be punished for it, and so he declares, when 
he is questioned about the matter, that he did not break 
it. If he knew and realized how important truthfulness 
is as a constant habit in all our relations with one an- 
other, he would have preferred to be punished rather 
than tell a lie, which would deserve a severer punish- 
ment than the original fault. According to the law of 
habit, with each time that one tells a lie it becomes 
easier for him to lie again. W r ith each time that he 
conquers the temptation it is so much the easier to tell 
the truth again. 

It is just as important for us that we should respect 
ourselves as that others should respect us. The only 
way in which we can maintain our self-respect in this 
matter is by telling the truth ; as Chaucer's Franklin 
says, " Truth is the highest thing that man may keep," 
and when he keeps it, he has a justifiable pride in the 
fact and in himself. Knowing how hard it is sometimes 
for children to tell the exact facts, when they have done 
wrong, teachers and parents should always try to make 
them feel that an offence against truthfulness is a great 



TP, UTHFULXESS. 61 

weakener of proper self-respect and that it is often a 
worse fault than the original wrong-doing. 

We should speak the whole truth. Often, by keep- 
ing back, purposely, some essential fact or circumstance, 
we can produce an impression on another person's mind 
directly the opposite of that which we are sure he would 
probably receive if we told this fact or circumstance. 
Invariably, we should tell those who have a right to 
know the facts of a matter from us, everything impor- 
tant that we know about it ; then, if they get a mistaken 
impression, it is not our fault. We owe one another the 
whole truth simply as members of the human society 
in which all are dependent on exact knowledge as a pre- 
cedent to wise and right action. 

We should not tell more than the truth by exagger- 
ating the facts or by inventing circumstances to make 
our talk interesting. When the exaggeration is plainly 
understood, it does not deceive. But we should not 
allow ourselves to fall into a habit of magnifying things 
as though we were always looking through a microscope. 
If a boy has seen two dogs fighting, he should not de- 
clare, " Oh, mother ! there were a thousand dogs fight- 
ing in front of our house this morning." We should be 
satisfied to report things as they have been or now are, 
neither more nor less. This is the simplest course for 
every one to take and to keep. 

Duplicity, which is another name for falsehood in 
action, means " doubleness." A person who desires to 
deceive others has " to keep up appearances,* 7 as to cer- 
tain matters about which he lies. In all other respects, 
he may be willing and even anxious to let the facts of 
his life be manifest. Xow, to keep up appearances, to 
seem to be what one is not, is a far harder thing to do 
than to live according to fact, and let the appearances 
be simply those of the facts. Duplicity is keeping up 
two courses of conduct, side by side, that do not agree 
with each other. We do not deceive ourselves by the 



62 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

lies we tell, so we must act in large degree as if these 
are lies. But we wish to deceive others by these false 
reports, and in order to deceive them thoroughly we have 
to act as if we had spoken the truth. The farther we 
go in such a course of conduct, the harder it is likely to 
become ; so a frank confession of all our untruthfulness 
is, at last, often a great relief to us. We come back 
with pleasure to simple fact and a life that is open and 
straightforward as the natural and right way of living. 
We have found 

" What a tang-led web we weave 
When first we practise to deceive." 

We must throughout life take home to ourselves this 
lesson, that Truth is meant for man and man is meant 
for Truth. Language is our natural means for telling 
facts to one another, so that we may know the real world 
in which we actually live, and do wisely, kindly, and 
rightly in it. We must obey the laws of nature ; we 
must control our actions so as to make them accord with 
these laws ; but the most fundamental duty of men in 
all their dealings with one another is to represent things 
as they are, in nature, in society, in life. Truth is the 
first necessity of wise living, and out of truth comes 
the only beauty that is permanent. The good rests upon 
the true. All this means that we should recognize the 
facts and laws of our human existence and represent 
them to others as they are, as the only sure and lasting 
foundation for a good and happy life. 



NOTES. 



The teacher will find some help, in treating the duty of ve- 
racity, in the sections or chapters of most of the standard books 
on ethics which pay attention to practice in any degree. Among 
the older works, Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy has rarely 
been surpassed for its concrete and sagacious treatment of prac- 



TRUTHFULXESS. 63 

tical morals : the chapter on Lies (Book III. chap, xv.) is inter- 
esting. Other works which give matter of value in this direction 
are Professor Xoah Porter's Elements. of Moral Science (Part II. 
chap. x. p. 416) ; John Basconi's Science of Duty, pp. 158-166 ; 
Mark Hopkins's Law of Love (on the "right to truth "), pp. 199- 
201 ; A. Bierbower's The Virtues and their Reasons ; and Paul 
Janet's Elements of Morals, translated by Mrs. C. P. Corson. 

As a specimen of illustrative reading, take this from S. Smiles's 
Character (p. 214 ; the chapter on Duty-Truthfulness) concern- 
ing the great educator, Thomas Arnold of Rugby. " There was 
no virtue that Dr. Arnold labored more sedulously to instil into 
young men than the virtue of truthfulness, as being the manliest 
of virtues, as indeed the very basis of all true manliness. He 
designated truthfulness as * moral transparency,' and he valued 
it more highly than any other quality. When lying was de- 
tected, he treated it as a great moral offence ; but when a pupil 
made an assertion, he accepted it with confidence. * If you say 
so, that is quite enough ; of course, I believe your word.' By 
thus trusting and believing them, he educated the young in truth- 
fulness ; the boys at length coming to say to one another : 'It's 
a shame to tell Arnold a lie, — he always believes one.' " (Life 
of Arnold, i. 94.) 

There is an apposite story of Arthur Bonnicastle in Dr. J. G. 
Holland's novel of that name (p. 88). The story of Washing- 
ton and the cherry tree belongs to myth, not to history, as one 
may see in Lodge's Life of Washington (American Statesmen 
Series) ; avoid it, as much as the myth of William Tell in teach- 
ing patriotism. Books of the style of Miss C. M. Yonge's 
Golden Deeds, Mr. S. Smiles's Character and Self-Help, and 
William Matthew's Getting on in the World, will afford pertinent 
anecdotes and stories of truth-telling and its opposite. 

As to the causes of lying by children, the following points are 
useful, from an instructive paper by President G. Stanley Hall 
of Clark L^niversity. Aided by a number of teachers, he col- 
lected very many data as to the character of children's lies and 
the occasion of their development. He finds, that with children, 
as with primitive people, the enormity of the lie depends largely 
upon whom it is told to. A great many children have persisted 
in lies until asked, " Would you tell that to your mother ? " 
Then they have confessed the falsehood. A lie to a teacher who 
is liked stands upon an entirely different moral basis from a lie 



64 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

to a teacher who is not liked. Lies to help people are generally 
applauded by children. One teacher reported to President Hall 
that she had been considerably saddened because her class of 
thirteen-year-old children would not apply the term " lie " to the 
action of the French girl who, when on her way to execution, in 
the days of the Commune, met her betrothed, and, to save him 
from supposed complicity, responded to his agonized appeals, 
" Sir, I never knew you." To the minds of the children the 
falsehood was glorified by the love. 

President Hall sensibly recognizes that a great many chil- 
dren's lies spring from one of the most valuable and healthful of 
mental instincts. Children live in their imagination. The finest 
geniuses have shown this " play instinct " most strongly. The 
children who have this type of imagination most strongly devel- 
oped are often the dullest at schools. 

Exaggeration is a mild species of offence against truth, but 
children may be taught to respect things as they are ; they 
should certainly be taught that it requires more care and thought 
to relate an event just as it happened, and that such an account 
is more creditable to them, than to indulge in exaggeration of 
any kind. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes says : " I often tell Mrs. 
Professor that one of her ' I think it is so's ' is worth a dozen of 
another person's 'I know it is so's.' " We should not exaggerate 
the degree of certainty in our own minds concerning what we say 
or believe ; there is such a very good thing as " the rhetoric of 
understatement." Truth is stranger than fiction, and if held to 
consistently, it will yield more variety and charm. If a child is 
evidently imaginative the teacher should be especially careful to 
keep it to the real world (outside of its games and story-telling, 
understood to be such), which it should be taught to respect 
and distinguish as the world we have to live in, where we need 
veracity more than imagination. 

Fear is another great cause of lying with children, when they 
have committed some offence. The parent or the teacher should 
not offer to remit the proper punishment for this offence in case 
the child will tell the truth ; but he should, as a rule, make the 
punishment more severe for the lie than for the original trans- 
gression, and the two penalties should be kept distinct. The 
teacher may well say : " If you did such and such a wrong thing, 
I shall have to punish you for it, even if you tell me frankly 
that you did it ; but if you lie about it I will give you a harder 



NOTES. 65 

punishment, in addition, because of the lie." But the tempta- 
tion to lying should be made as slight as possible by the teacher. 

Appeal to the sense of honor, as in Dr. Arnold's case, and to the 
feeling of self-respect ; show that duplicity (doubleness) is a hard 
part to play, that the liar " should have a good memory," as one 
lie breeds others which must be told, to be consistent, and all of 
these must be remembered ; that the facts are all the time 
troubling, and will finally triumph over, the liar, who gets into 
worse and worse difficulties continually, while he who is plainly- 
telling the truth all the time has no such difficulties. 

The loss of confidence which a lie, suspected or detected, 
brings about should be brought home to the child who has told 
an untruth, by declining to believe him the next time he makes 
an assertion at all doubtful, and telling him the reason why you 
must, inevitably, so do ; ask him how he likes the feeling of 
having his word doubted, how he felt when he has been deceived 
himself (" put yourself in his place ") and how he felt when he 
saw he had deceived a person to whom he owed the truth in 
proper gratitude and honor. Be sure to give all due weight to 
the intention of the child in telling a falsehood, if you can get at 
it ; anything else than a plain intention to deceive should make 
him a subject of enlightenment rather than of punishment. But 
casuistry should be avoided in the general talks to children. 
There is little profit in discussing with them the question if one 
may properly tell a lie to a drunkard or an insane person, or in 
order to save life. Such debate should be left to older persons 
who will not be so apt to become confused in their minds. 
Nature will teach a person what to do in such a case better than 
any amount of discussion. 

Remember how many a child that shamelessly reproduced the 
immorality of a savage or barbarian in its frequent lies has be- 
come thoroughly truthful when grown up ; the lively, mendacious 
Greek is thus often outgrown in time, and the truth-loving 
Teuton emerges and remains. 



CHAPTER V. 
THE LAW OF JUSTICE. 

As we all live under the moral law, each of us has a 
right to the protection of that law. The moral law is 
written down in part in the laws of the land, and we 
see in every civilized country what are called " courts 
of justice. " If any man thinks that he has been 
wronged by another who has taken away his property, 
he " goes to law/' as we say, about it. The case is tried 
before a judge and a jury. The judge tells the jury 
what the law of the land bearing on the suit is, and the 
jury decides upon the facts of the case, whether it comes 
under the law or not. This is one way of getting jus- 
tice done. There are many laws about property and 
other rights ; there are many judges and lawyers and 
legislators, making or discussing or determining the 
written law. The object of all these arrangements and 
institutions is that every man may have his own, that 
which properly belongs to him. 

As we all very well know, a large part of the moral 
law is not written down in the statute-book and is not 
executed by the ' courts, but is left to public opinion or 
to private persons to enforce, because it can be enforced 
in this way better than by the judges. However it is 
applied, justice always means giving every person his 
due ; i. e.j what others owe him because he is a human 
being in society. Speaking generally, he himself owes 
the same things to other people as they owe to him, 
since all human beings are very much alike. What he 
calls his " rights " are the " duties " of others to him, 
and their " rights " measure his " duties " to them. 



THE LAW OF JUSTICE. 67 

We must rule out, at once, from all our thoughts of 
moral law, the notion that Ave ourselves have more 
rights than other persons have, or that we have fewer 
duties. One and the same great law of human life is 
over us all ; it makes our duties equal to our rights. 
In the great whole of human society, each person is a 
part. The whole has duties to each, part : each, part 
has duties to all the other parts and to the whole. This 
is the universal law for entire mankind. Practice of 
the obedience and the self-control of which we have 
had so much to say results in justice to all men. " The 
just " is the fair and due part of each and every person. 

Meum et tuum : we know what this Latin phrase 
means, " mine and thine ; " the law of mine and thine 
is that you shall have what belongs to you, no more 
and no less, and that I shall have what belongs to me, 
no more and no less. Honesty is a very important 
part of justice, and honest}^ is respect for the property 
of others. To take what is another's property, know- 
ingly, is to work injustice. We may do this by vio- 
lence, while he protests or tries to prevent us. In this 
case we are setting the law of the land openly at defi- 
ance, and the policeman or the constable or the sheriff 
will come and arrest us. We shall be taken before the 
court, and if we are proved to be guilty, we shall be 
severely punished, because it is for the interest of all 
men that the rights of property should be respected, and 
because private violence is contrary to all law except 
the rude law of the strongest, under which savages live. 
Reason and right cannot prevail unless violence be 
punished. 

But if we take away another person's property with- 
out his knowledge, — this we call " stealing," — we are 
also breaking the great law of meum et tuum, and it is 
none the less wrong if we are not found out and pun- 
ished. People often dispute about property, different 
persons thinking that they have a clear right to the 



68 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

ownership of the same thing, — a house, let us say, or 
a piece of land. In such a case they should let the 
courts, or some other competent authority, decide for 
them, and both parties should respect the decision after- 
wards. But when we know that a thing does not be- 
long to us, we owe it not only to the person who owns 
the property, but also to the whole community in which 
we live, to regard his right, and we should not try to 
cheat or defraud him of it, any more than we should 
take it away from him by force. There is enough in 
the world for all, if each will take only his part. So 
mankind thinks, and tries, therefore, to set up " even- 
handed justice/' as Shakespeare calls it. Enjoy what 
is your own, and let others enjoy their own. Such a 
rule would keep us from robbery or theft of any kind. 
If we are just to others, again, we shall not take or keep 
back any part of what belongs to them since they have 
paid for it. The grocer must weigh out sixteen ounces 
to the pound, as he is paid for the pound ; the dry-goods 
clerk should give thirty-six inches to the yard, for 
otherwise he is keeping back what is another's. 

Justice is opposed to partiality or favoritism, as well; 
this means giving to one person more than his share, 
as when a teacher is kind to one scholar and severe to 
another, both being equally deserving. Ail the pupils 
in the school have a right to the teacher's care and help, 
just as the teacher has a right to obedience and atten- 
tion from all the scholars alike. The upright judge in 
the court room makes no distinction in his rulings be- 
cause one man is rich and another man is poor, or 
because one is white and the other is black. He is no 
" respecter of persons " : it is his duty to apply princi- 
ples to cases and not to let his personal likings or dis- 
likings influence his action. 

The old Romans represented the goddess of justice 
by the statue of a woman blindfolded, holding a pair 
of scales in one hand and a sword in the other. The 



THE LAW OF JUSTICE. 69 

bandage indicated that the just man should be blind to 
every consideration which would lead him to favor one 
person at the expense of another. The scales showed 
that the just man weighs out his part to each, that he 
may be fair to all. In our homes we should all weigh 
in our minds the parts we owe to father and mother, to 
brothers and sisters, and to other relatives there, and 
give them freely and heartily, full measure and ample 
weight. So at school, so on the street, so in business 
and so in all our relations with other human beings, 
we should be just, first of all. In order to do justly we 
have to recognize the truths we have thus far been 
learning : that we are all under one law ; that we all owe 
it obedience ; that we all ought to control our selfish 
dispositions, which tend to become the very opposite of 
reason and justice ; and that we all owe one another the 
whole truth. As we go along further in our study of 
morality, we shall see that very much more of right 
conduct might be included under the name of justice : 
even kindness might be called a part of it. But let us 
think of it now as the giving his fair and equal part to 
every person, whether he is near enough to us for us 
also to be kind, or not. 

As each human being is a member of society, each 
has a just claim to his fair part of the good things of 
the world. What we call " self " has its rights as well 
as its duties, and it is not " selfishness " for any one to 
desire to have that which in reason belongs to him. 
" Selfishness " means asking or taking too much, 
more than one's proper share. We need a word to sig- 
nify without any shade of blame the existence and 
action of the self, that is, of each individual person, in 
its right and reasonable degree. Such a word, as has 
been said in a previous chapter, is the old English term 
" selfhood." Like boyhood, manhood, womanhood, and 
other similar words, it means simply the natural condi- 
tion of each human being, existing as a person of the 



70 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

first and nearest importance in his own eyes. Nature 
has given him consciousness of himself, and he can 
never take the same attitude toward himself as he holds 
toward every other human being. He views his self 
from within, but all other persons he sees, and must 
see, from without. The preservation of this self from 
danger or disease or death, and the maintenance of it in 
health and comfort are, by a law of nature, peculiarly 
the business of each one of us, more especially when we 
have reached our. full size and strength. Each person 
can, on the whole, provide for himself better than others 
can provide for him. Self-help is thoroughly natural, 
and it is usually the best kind of help. The devel- 
opment of all one's powers of body and mind is pecul- 
iarly one's own duty and privilege. There is nothing 
selfish or wrong in any one's asking for what is, reason- 
ably, his share. 

We become selfish, i. e., we carry our natural liking 
for ourselves too far, when we take away from others, 
directly or indirectly, what is theirs, to make it, wrong- 
fully, our own property. As we all know, selfishness, 
the claiming or taking too much, is the most common 
form of all wrong-doing. It might be said that it is 
even the foundation or source of almost all wrong- 
doing. When we think very highly of our own merits 
and very little of the rights of others, we really act as 
if human society revolved around us as its centre ; we 
are virtually claiming that we cannot have too much, or 
others too little, the main matter being that we shall be 
satisfied. This is making the same kind of mistake 
that men used to make when they imagined that the 
sun and the planets and all the stars of heaven revolved 
around this little earth of ours as their centre. It was 
not so ; it is not so, and it cannot be made to be so by any 
amount of talking or doing on our part. So when any 
man or woman, or boy or girl, acts as if the whole fam- 
ily, or the whole school, or the whole neighborhood, or 



THE LAW OF JUSTICE. 71 

town or city or state or nation revolves, or should re- 
volve, around his or her own convenience or comfort or 
happiness, the same great mistake is made. All these 
associations of human beings are intended for the good 
of each and all together ; every individual in any one 
of them must consult the welfare of all the others, as 
well as of himself, if the association is to continue in 
its natural and proper form, and if each is to receive 
from it the greatest degree of aid and comfort. 

The rule of justice, then, is, To each man his part. 
The way to bring this about is to act, in the first place, 
reasonably, to have a moderate and sensible notion of our 
own merits, to remember that each of us is only one of 
many, that each, indeed, is very important to himself, 
but that all these different selves are to live together in 
a common society under one and the same moral law. 
So apt are we all to exaggerate our own personal merits, 
so very apt to take more than what in reason belongs 
to us, that it becomes a necessity for us to make a con- 
stant allowance for this disposition. Very few persons, 
indeed, are likely to decide impartially in a case where 
their own interests are involved. Hence, it is a matter 
of the. highest importance for us to realize our compara- 
tive inability to judge ourselves correctly. Our one re- 
source, if we must decide ourselves, is to try to obey 
the maxim, Put yourself in his place. When we 
have a dispute with another, or when it is a matter con- 
cerning meum et tuum, our safest, surest way is to obey 
the Golden Rule of conduct, " Do unto others as ye 
would that others should do unto you." 

Practically, this is the most important of all rules for 
governing our actions, because we are strongly inclined 
by nature to think of ourselves more highly than we 
ought to think, in reason. But if we once put ourselves, 
in imagination, in the other person's place, and ask our- 
selves how we should then like to have him do to us as 
we were purposing to do to him, we get a new light on 



72 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

the matter. It becomes plain to us, very often, that we 
should not at all like to be treated so by any one, and 
should consider such treatment unreasonable and un- 
fair. If, then, it would be so for us, why should it not 
be so for him ? The action remains the same, the dif- 
ference being only that the one who does the wrong 
and the one who suffers the wrong have changed places. 
Many persons declare, by their practice, that they hold 
the view of the African chief who was asked the differ- 
ence between right and wrong : " Eight/' he answered, 
" is when I take away my neighbor's cattle ; wrong is 
when he takes away mine ! " But this, of course, is the 
very height of unreason : it amounts to denying that 
there is one and the same law binding upon all men 
alike, which makes stealing or robbery wrong because 
it is an offence against the social life. 

Justice and selfishness, therefore, are the two ex- 
tremes of action. The just man obeys the social, moral 
law ; the selfish man sets up his own will or pleasure as 
the only law that he wishes to obey. Liberty, the self- 
ish person thinks, is liberty to do as he pleases and take 
all he likes ; but he is very much mistaken. The real 
freedom for all men is liberty to act according to the 
Golden Eule. " Look out for number one " is the prin- 
ciple of the selfish man ; by " number one " he means 
himself. But, as a matter of fact, is he " number 
one " in respect to other matters than his relations to 
his fellow-men ? Was the sun made for him ? Will 
the rain come at his convenience ? Can he be idle and 
yet have all the rewards of industry ? Can he disre- 
gard any other law than the moral law with safety and 
profit to himself ? He surely cannot so do. He is no 
more " number one " before the moral law than he is 
before physical law. Moral law is law for the exist- 
ence and preservation and progress of human society, 
including all its individual members. Society is 
number one, and the moral law leaves no individual 



THE LAW OF JUSTICE. 73 

exempt from its equal operation and application. Hon- 
esty is " the best policy/'' therefore, because it is in 
harmony with the law of justice that includes all men 
without an exception. 

We are obliged to balance self and others in very 
many of our moral judgments and actions. We may be 
very sure that the two parties are meant by nature to 
work together in harmony for the welfare of all. We 
have instincts of justice as well as instincts of selfish- 
ness. Through our faculty of reason and our power of 
self-control, we can bring ourselves and others to a true 
selfhood which is just to all. Living in it we 
should be true to our own selves and false to no man. 
But to reach this end we need to think upon justice 
first. Self will probably assert itself fully enough, 
with most of us, without encouragement. When we 
think earnestly about our duties, to do them, other 
men will usually be quite ready to give us our rights 
with pleasure. But if we are very clamorous about 
" our rights," they will probably ask us first if we have 
discharged our own part. Not England alone, but all 
mankind " expects that every man will do his duty." 
A man who attends to all his duties will not talk pro- 
fusely about his rights. 



NOTES. 



" Justice satisfies everybody, and justice alone," says Emer- 
son. No word is more common to-day than "rights." See, for 
example, Herbert Spencer's Justice, with its chapters on the 
rights of women and children. But " duties " are, on the whole, 
much more profitable things to consider. Under justice comes 
honesty in all our dealings, as opposed to cheating, defrauding, 
stealing, adulteration of goods, and scamping work; the keeping 
of promises (" who sweareth to his hurt and changeth not "); re- 
gard for the reputation of others; fair methods of making money 
(read J. Wolcott's poem, The Razor-Seller), and a hundred other 



74 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

topics. " Fair play " is an important aspect of justice easily 
brought into the view of boys and girls in school. Justice rests 
finally on the idea of equality, that all men have certain great 
rights as men, owed them by all other men as duties. " A man 's 
a man for a' that." Justice is the law of the business world, 
where kindness is not often mentioned. See Dole's American 
Citizen, part third, on "economic duties, or the rights and duties 
of business and money." " The most enviable of all titles," 
said Washington, — " the character of ' an honest man.' " " Jus- 
tice," said Aristotle, "more beautiful than the morning or the 
evening star." 



CHAPTER VI. 
THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 

In considering the fnll meaning of justice we have 
said that it might be so defined at last as to make it in- 
clude kindness, and we came to the Golden Rule as its 
best expression. But still it will probably seem to 
many that, so far, we have been making morality stern 
and forbidding, since we have had so much to say about 
law and obedience, — joyless words, most often ! We 
have taken this course deliberately, however, in order 
to think and reason clearly about this most important 
matter, — our conduct. But we should be omitting the 
view of conduct which changes its whole aspect, if we 
left out kindness. Justice we commonly regard as 
based upon deliberate thought, and we often say that 
one must not let his " feelings bias his judgment " on a 
question of right and wrong. Yet a very great portion 
of our life is the life of feeling. While we should not 
try to distinguish feeling and thought too closely, each 
has its large place. 

In all our conduct feeling has a great part to play. 
We only need to be sure that the feeling is rightly di- 
rected and not immoderate in its degree. This being 
so, the more strongly we feel in matters of conduct the 
better, for feeling is the powerful force that makes 
action easy. If we " think clear and feel deep " we 
shall be most likely to " bear fruit well," and this is 
what every " friend of man desires.". Now kindness 
is the word that stands preeminently for good feeling. 
In many of its uses it means as much or nearly as much 



76 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

as Love, and Love is the word that marks the strong- 
est possible feeling of personal attachment. We shall 
use the word Kindness in preference to Love in speak- 
ing of acts and feelings which concern many persons, 
because Love is, strictly, an intensely attractive feeling 
in persons very near each other, such as members of 
one family, intimate friends, or men and women who 
are " in love " with each other, as we say. The deep 
sympathy we call " love " continues strong while it is 
confined to a few as its object ; but if we try to extend 
it to many persons it necessarily loses its intensity. 
As we are now considering feelings which are to be 
entertained toward the many, not toward the few, it is 
well to say " kindness," and reserve "love" for the 
highest degree of affection. We will speak then of 
" the law of kindness," rather than of " the law of 
love," for the present. 

We all know that persons may, not rarely, deserve 
to be called just, and not deserve to be called kind. We 
often say that we respect a certain man because he does 
right habitually, but that we are not " attracted " to 
him. His conduct seems to us reasonable and just; but 
it lacks that element of grace and charm which we 
imply when we say that another person is thoroughly 
kind — " kind-hearted " we generally phrase it, making 
an implied distinction between the " heart " and the 
" head." We must be very careful not to press this 
distinction too far, and make too much of it, for head 
and heart, not only literally but in this figurative use as 
well, are necessary parts of the same person ; they are 
not always or often to be set in sharp opposition. But 
there is a difference, plain to see, between good conduct 
that is simply just and good conduct that has "heart in 
it," i. e., is also " kind." Eeal kindness is not opposed to 
justice, but is ab^ve it as a superior degree in right con- 
duct. There is in kindness a notion of 'wholeness, 
immediateness and inspiration, which are more pleas- 



THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 77 

ing and winning than the most careful, well calculated 
and deliberate justice can be by itself. 

Kindness, in fact, is the ideal of conduct toward 
the great body of our felloAv-creatures. We have said 
in the last chapter that mankind has a natural instinct 
to be just, as well as an innate disposition to be selfish. 
It is also true, and a very important thing it is to bear 
in mind, that human nature has another instinct, to be 
kind. Sympathy (i. e., feeling with another, especially 
in his troubles) is precisely as natural to man as self- 
ishness ; sympathy is but another name for kindness. 
Selfhood and sympathy — feeling for one's self and feel- 
ing with and for others — are the two poles on which 
the world of personal conduct revolves. Each feeling 
is good and right in itself. The practical matter al- 
ways is to keep each in its proper place and confine it 
to its right degree. 

It may help us a little, at this critical point, to be just 
to self and to others if we consider closely the several 
meanings of the words " kind " and " kindness." * 
" Kind " as a noun means (this is the original use of 
the word) the species, or class, to which a, being be- 
longs, as in the phrase " cattle after their kind." There 
are kinds of plants and kinds of animals. Among ani- 
mal beings, we belong to mankind. Each species or class 
has its peculiar nature, by reason of which we are led 
to call it a separate kind. This nature is, to all belong- 
ing to this kind, a necessary law of their action ; they 
simply must act according to their kind. " They fol- 
low the law of their kind," we say of all living animals. 
In connection with this nature we also use the words 
native propensity, disposition, character ; these are all 
" natural," if they are involved in the "kind." It is 
the disposition of the tigress, for instance, to be cruel 

1 The teacher will observe that elsewhere I have preferred to dis- 
cuss in the notes the matter of etymologies — so interesting and im- 
portant in ethical reasoning — or to leave it untouched. 



78 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

to all animals but her own young : to them she is affec- 
tionate. Equally it is the character oi the dog to be 
fond of his master, and faithful to him. 1 So men and 
women have a certain general disposition or character 
because they all belong to mankind. For instance, you 
are "led by kind to admire your fellow-creature," says 
Dryden. 

The first use of "kind" as an adjective follows di- 
rectly from these meanings which we have been mention- 
ing. Whatever is " characteristic," i e. } is a mark, of a 
species, whatever belongs to its nature, is natural or 
native to it, is therefore "kind" to it, in this primitive 
sense. (" Kind " and " kin," we have to remember, 
are etymologically the same word ; " kin " or " akin," 
and "kind," in this present sense, mean just the same.) 
" The kind taste " of an apple is the taste natural to an 
apple. The hay " kindest for sheep " is the hay that 
suits best their taste. " Kindly " is another form of 
" kind." " The kindly fruits of the earth " are the 
fruits which the earth naturally produces, i. e., after its 
kind. Next "kind" comes to mean especially, in the 
case of human beings, having the feelings that are com- 
mon and natural to the kind, the feelings which indi- 
cate, as well as stature or complexion, a community of 
descent. "A kindless villain," such as Hamlet calls the 
King, is one who acts contrary to the usual disposition 
of men, as the King did in murdering his own brother, 
Hamlet's father. " A little more than kin and less 
than kind," says Hamlet again, of the king, playing on 
the related words. The chorus in " Henry V.," ad- 
dressing England, exclaims : — 

" What mightst thou do 
Were all thy children kind and natural; " 

that is, were they all true to their nature as English- 
men, with no traitors among them. 

1 " The bee," says Richard Rolle de Hampole, the old English 
writer, " has three kyndes ; ane es that sche is neuer ydell." 



THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 79 

"Kind " as an adjective easily passes on to imply not 
only the feelings which show a common natnre in hu- 
man beings, but in particular the feelings which show 
it most, the tender emotions. These prove the exist- 
ence, in a person, of a high degree of sympathy or com- 
passion (these two words are etymologically the same). 
" A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind." " One 
touch of nature makes the whole world kin," i. e., it 
makes men feel alike, and with each other. When we 
are thoughtful about the fortunes of others, and dwell 
upon their lot so as to feel with them, " we become 
kindly with our kind," as Tennyson writes. In this 
way " kind," the adjective, reaches its present and usual 
meaning of tender and thoughtful for the welfare of 
others, in little things as well as in great. 

The history of " kindness," the noun, has followed the 
same course. In " Much Ado About Nothing " the un- 
cle of Claudio is reported by the messenger to have 
burst into tears when he heard how his nephew had 
distinguished himself in battle. " A kind overflow of 
kindness," says Leonato there, meaning, as he played 
upon the words, a natural overflow of tender feeling in 
one related, " akin," to Claudio. " Thy nature," says 
Lady Macbeth to her more humane spouse, " is too full 
o' the milk of human kindness," i. e., to kill the king. 
6 Kindness," then, points to the great fact on which the 
moral law rests, that we are living with our kind. In 
this life together we are to think very carefully about 
the things which tend to make it profitable and pleasant 
to all. We must obey the laws of human nature which 
not only bring men together but are also continually 
operating to make the life together richer, fairer, and 
sweeter. This is the action of the law of kindness, 
the highest law of human society, of life with our kind. 

We are wont to say human society and human kind. 
Notice how this word " human " and the word " hu- 
mane " are related. A human being, an individual of 



80 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

the species Homo, would be partially described by the 
naturalist as an animal walking upright and having two 
hands, and a large brain with many convolutions. We 
are each of us a portion of such a " humanity," meaning 
physiological human kind, or the species Homo, through 
the possession £>f these physical characteristics. But 
" humanity " means, specifically, the thoughts and feel- 
ings proper, i. e. peculiar, to mankind, those which dis- 
tinguish us from the lower animals more plainly than 
do any bodily marks. 1 Most of all it stands for tender- 
ness toward our own kind, so that " humanity " and 
" kindness " are, to a certain degree, synonymous, the 
latter word having historically the somewhat wider 
meaning. "Humane" is the adjective corresponding 
to this last-mentioned sense of the noun " humanity." 
An old translator of Plutarch into English using the 
word in the earliest, literal sense, " of man," speaks of 
bearing " humane cases humanely," i. e., bearing the lot 
of man like a man ! 

The change of signification which has come upon 
" kind " and " human " is one sign of the great fact of 
the progress of man. Universal history, indeed, is the 
record of man becoming more human, steadily working 
out the beastly and savage elements in his mingled 
nature, and giving ever freer exercise to those elements 
which are distinctively human. The humanization of 
man in society is the aim of all that we properly call 
civilization. Every step in this process, which takes 
mankind away from the beast and the savage, in thought, 
feeling, and action, is an improvement, since thus his 
special nature is working itself free. To humanize a 
race is to give it knowledge and art, a higher morality 
and gentler manners. Observe how this word " gentle," 
again, comes to mean what it does. A " gentle " person 

1 " Men that live according* to the right rule and law of reason live 
but in their own kind, as beasts do in theirs,' 1 Sir Thomas Browne 
says. 



THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 81 

was originally one belonging to " a good family," one 
" well-born." Now people of family, the well-born, 
among their other advantages have more leisure than 
most persons to consider the smaller things of human 
intercourse — manners, that is, and the " minor morals " 
— and give them pleasing shape. Manners with these 
persons are improved ; they become more gracious and 
refined, largely because the conditions of life are easier 
here than those of the majority of mankind; the well- 
to-do can thus spend more time and thought upon minor 
matters in social intercourse. The manners of good, 
or polite society are, properly, the kindest manners, be- 
cause they have been the object of much consideration 
with a view to making the relations of men and women 
in refined society pleasant and agreeable in every way. 
" Courtesy," our word for the finest kind of manners, 
comes from the " court " of royal personages where the 
greatest attention is usually paid to cultivating fine 
manners. 

But politeness and courtesy have now, of course, no 
necessary connection with kings or nobles. The law of 
kindness requires consideration of others, in preference 
to a selfish absorption in one's own pleasure or profit, 
and such kindness is not chiefly dependent upon our 
outward rank. As far as external conditions go, it is 
more easily cultivated in a state of comfort and leisure 
than in a state of hardship and poverty, but its essence 
is in the kind heart. True kindness does not require 
that we try to suspend for any one the fit operation of 
the laws of human life, or that we excuse him from 
obedience, most of all, to the moral law. Kindness does 
not allow us to be untrue in our words or unjust in our 
deeds, but it implies a constant control over the tongue 
and hand, so that the spirit- in which we act and 
speak shall be gentle and considerate of the feelings of 
all other human beings. To speak the truth in love, — 
to do justly while we love the mercy that is above all 
sceptred sway, — this is the ideal of human conduct. 



82 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

Naturally, we learn most easily how to live in this 
best way through our experience in our own homes. 
There our kin are our teachers in kindness. Nothing 
can surpass a mother's kindness for her children, or a 
father's concern for the happiness of his sons and 
daughters, unless it be the love of the husband and wife 
themselves, united in a true marriage. The love of our 
brothers and sisters, the kind thoughtfulness and affec- 
tionate helpfulness which are the very atmosphere of a 
happy home, instruct us that the same quality of mind 
and heart will make our intercourse with other human 
beings better and more humane. Opportunities for for- 
getting ourselves, for thinking how to do good, and for 
the doing of it, are innumerable in every life, and the 
character of every person becomes stronger, richer, and 
more beautiful, as he improves these occasions. We 
are not doing our whole duty when we simply tell the 
truth without regard to the mode of telling it ; when we 
give other people their rights, without considering the 
manner in which we regard these rights ; or when we 
have brought ourselves to obey every precept of the 
moral law in an external way only. This law is a law 
of life ; obedience should become a second nature, so 
that all its hardness and difficulty may pass away. 

" Serene will be our days, and bright 
And happy will our nature be 
When love is an unerring' light 
And joy its own security." 

The element of beauty is needed in our conduct, as 
elsewhere in human life. Kindness supplies this grace 
and charm, in that it carries regard for others to the 
point of making it a fine art. Nothing is more beauti- 
ful in human intercourse than purely unselfish love, — 
of man and woman, of mother and child, of brother and 
sister, of whole-hearted friends. Beautiful, too, is the 
good man's regard for all other members of the great 
human family, when nothing that is human is alien to 



THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 83 

his heart; when the sight of the weak, the ignorant, 
and the poor, reminds him that we are all of one primal 
nature, and that the law of kindness is the supreme law 
for man. 

The short and easy way to stamp this character of 
beauty on our conduct is to begin -with the heart, out 
of which are " the issues of life." When we think 
clearly, we perceive how far beyond and above all the dif- 
ferences and distinctions between human beings are the 
great and fundamental likenesses of man to man, which 
should arouse and sustain in us all a feeling of the com- 
mon? brotherhood of humanity. The single person enters 
into a larger life by sympathy with another. Man and 
woman come together in marriage, the closest union of 
this kind, and find strength and beauty in a home where 
love reigns, and family ties multiply the sweetness and 
the power of life. The same feeling can extend itself, 
in various degrees, but in the one form of human kind- 
ness, to all the relations of life, to soften and refine and 
beautify human society. 

The law of kindness tends to put down all " sur- 
vivals " of the beast, the primitive savage, and the bar- 
barian, in the individual and in the world at large. Un- 
kindness is injustice to one of the same race with 
ourselves ; it is untruthfulness to the great fact of our 
common humanity. But as a positive force of interest 
in others and sympathy with them, kindness becomes 
the finest justice and the most delicate truthful- 
ness. Harshness is unjust, and cruelty is brutal ; both 
these opposites of kindness are unhuman. But let us 
do a kindness to a person whom we have disliked, and 
what an effect it has in clearing away injustice in our 
own mind ! We often see how false has been our view 
of what we called the facts of his nature. Human 
kindness preserves the family and the home, and makes 
them fair and satisfying. A man and his wife used often 
to quarrel, she said, but now that they kept " two bears " 



84 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

in the house all went happily : the names of these two 
peacemakers were Bear and Forbear ! 

Kindness in the form of politeness and common cour- 
tesy makes the relations of men and women outside 
their own homes a source of pleasure and happiness, 
helping on every other good thing. Human kindness 
between nations would abolish war and all its horrors. 
Peace in the home and in the world, and, because of 
peace, larger opportunity for growth in knowledge and 
beauty and right and fulness of life in every direction, 
— this is the result of love fulfilling every moral 
law. When men act and speak and think and feel out 
of a generous, merciful, peaceful, kindly spirit, then 
their highest level here upon earth is attained, human 
nature comes to its finest flower, and the fullest fruit- 
age of life is sure. 



NOTES. 
" The quality of mercy is not strained." 

A CLASSIC book on courtesy is The Gentleman, by George H. 
Calvert, full of references to history and literature, from Sir 
Philip Sidney to Charles Lamb. Dr. Holmes defines good breed- 
ing as " surface Christianity," and Cardinal Newman says the 
gentleman is " one who never willingly gave pain." 

" Moral life is based on sympathy ; it is feeling for others, 
working for others, aiding others, quite irrespective of any per- 
sonal good beyond the satisfaction of the social impulse. En- 
lightened by the intuition of our community of weakness, we 
share ideally the universal sorrow. Suffering humanizes. Feel- 
ing the need of mutual help, we are prompted by it to labor for 
others." (G. H. Lewes.) 

Kindness to animals is distinctively a modern virtue in Chris- 
tian countries. It is an extension to the lower animals, espe- 
cially to those we domesticate, of the considerate treatment we 
have first learned to give to our own species. 

" I would not enter on my list of friends 
(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, 



THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 85 

Yet lacking" sensibility) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm." 

Read Rab and his Friends; such poems as The Halo, by W. C. 
Gannett, and selections from the biographies of men, like Sir 
Walter Scott, fond of dogs and horses. See Miss Cobbe on the 
Education of the Emotions in the Fortnightly Review, xliii. p. 223. 
Lessons on Manners, by Edith Wiggin, is a good handbook for 
the teacher. As for kindness in charitable works : — 

" That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; 
He gives only the worthless gold 
Who gives from a sense of duty ; 
But he who gives but a slender mite 
And gives to that which is out of sight, 
That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty 
Which runs through all and doth all unite, — 
The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms." 



CHAPTER VII. 
THE GREAT WORDS OF MORALITY. 

Lsr our previous chapters we have studied the mean- 
ing of " law " in general, and of the " moral law " in par- 
ticular. " Duty/ 7 " ought/ 7 " justice/' and " kindness " 
we have also explained. But there are numerous other 
words used very commonly in speaking of human ac- 
tions, such as " right " and " wrong/' " conscience/' 
" virtue/' and " vice/' which we have not yet consid- 
ered. In every art and in every science a clear under- 
standing of the exact meanings of the words we use is 
important. But nowhere is it of more consequence 
than when we are speaking or writing about the moral 
character of actions. Indeed, in discussing matters of 
conduct the decision as to their rightness or wrongness 
often turns upon the definition we give of " right " and 
" wrong " in general. In this book we are trying to 
keep clear of controversies as to the ultimate nature of 
vice and virtue, of the morally good and the morally 
bad, and to remain upon the ground of practical ethics 
where there is a general agreement among men. In 
such a spirit, avoiding refinements and subtleties, let us 
look at some of the words which mankind commonly 
use in regard to morals. 

In the first place, however, what do we mean pre- 
cisely by " moral " or " ethical " ? The two words have 
the same signification, the first coming from the Latin 
language, and the second from the Greek ; both mean 
" pertaining to the habits, manners, or customs of men." 
Of course, not all possible actions of human beings are 
called " moral." We eat and sleep and do many other 



THE GREAT WORDS OF MORALITY. 87 

things which all other animals do as a part of their ani- 
mal existence. These are not immoral but unmoral 
acts : there is no propriety in applying the words 
" right " and " wrong " to them. We read and study, 
again ; we employ our minds in many ways, and we do 
not think of vice or virtue as fit words to use about 
what we are doing. There is thus a great deal of hu- 
man life which lies outside of the world of moral 
distinctions : our instinctive animal existence, the 
natural play of the mind, and numerous powers of con- 
scious thought and action have standards other than 
those of morals. We may not judge a book, a picture, 
or a building by morals alone. 

Only sl part of all the manners and customs of men 
do we properly call moral or immoral. This part, evi- 
dently, takes in those actions which most directly affect 
the welfare of other persons. Man in society is the 
subject of moral or ethical science, and our actions 
show themselves to be moral or immoral according as 
they tend, immediately or ultimately, to the welfare or 
to the injury of other human beings. Eating my break- 
fast is not a moral act in itself ; but if I give another 
person poisoned food for his breakfast, it is a highly 
immoral deed that I do. If any act of mine is plainly 
confined in its consequences to myself, then its moral 
quality is not immediately obvious. If every human 
being were out of all relations to every other, there 
could be no such science or art as morals or ethics, for 
" duties to self/' as they are sometimes called, would 
not, alone, constitute such a science. But there is a 
law, as we have seen, governing all the many actual 
relations of men to one another, and because we are 
social beings and live our lives mainly together, this 
law, the law of morality, is of the very first importance 
to us. Duty, " the ought," as we have explained, is the 
obedience we " owe " to this law. But there is a very 
common phrase, " rights and duties." This combination 



88 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

indicates the social nature of morals. Our duties are 
what we owe to others ; our rights are what others owe 
to us. Their rights are our duties ; their duties are 
our rights. 

" Eight " (which comes from the same root as rectus, 
straight) means, first of all, " in accordance with rule 
or law." Righteousness, or rightness, is equivalent to 
rectitude, which means going straight by the rule or 
measure. This rule has come to be for all mankind the 
rule in particular derived from the moral law : right 
means, therefore, doing the things which the moral law, 
of truthfulness or kindness for instance, prescribes to 
be done. If we can find this law and merely under- 
stand it as we should any other law of nature, we are 
intellectually right, i. e., correct in our thought ; if we 
act as it commands, we are morally right, so far as our 
action is concerned ; if we obey it in a spirit of glad- 
ness, as the inspiring law of our human life, then we 
are right, all through, — mind and hand and heart and 
will : then we are completely moral beings. 

" Eight " has in it the notion of straightness, straight- 
forwardness, directness. A " right line " is the straight 
line between any two points. Eight conduct is conduct 
tending directly to social welfare, the good of all em- 
bracing the good of each. But when one's action is 
bent or swayed out of this straight line, when it tends 
to some other mark than the good of all, it is " wrong," 
L e., it is wrung out of conformity with the rule or 
law. 

Now the great occasion or cause of wrong-doing in 
the world is, as we have seen, that we are apt to think 
only of ourselves when we act. Our own welfare very 
often so takes the first place in our thoughts and feel- 
ings that we care little, or not at all, what the conse- 
quences of our deeds may be to other persons. There 
are, in truth, many matters in which we must think 
about our own comfort and convenience as the impor- 



THE GREAT WORDS OF MORALITY. 89 

tant matter, since self-help is the best kind of help ; and 
if the thing we desire is good for us, it may be entirely 
right that we should endeavor to obtain it. But when 
a benefit of any kind is one that may be shared, or that 
must be shared, in order that no one shall suffer because 
another gets more than his portion, then pure selfhood 
becomes selfishness, and is wrong. For example, a 
farmer works hard to make money from his land : he 
labors on -his own place, and has his own interest, not 
his neighbor's, in view, as he buys and sells according 
to the usual laws of trade. This is right : there is no 
selfishness about caring for one's self in this way. But 
the farmer is bound to provide for his wife and chil- 
dren, to see that they have enough to eat, that they are 
well clothed, that the children go to school, that the 
hired men receive fair wages and are punctually paid, 
and that all the benefits of his prosperity, such as it is, 
are divided among those who have a just and natural 
claim upon him. But while the farmer is making 
money, he may compel his family to fare poorly and 
dress meanly ; he may keep his children at work when 
they should have the opportunity to go to school ; he 
may " beat down " the pay of his workmen and delay 
the payment. In all these ways, not to speak of other 
matters, he may disregard the fact that we are partners 
with one another. Instead of going straight to the 
mark of the plain and simple duty before him, he may 
force and complicate things into a state of wrongness 
by his selfishness. The crooked line is the proper em- 
blem of the conduct that obeys no law; the straight 
line, of the conduct that is true to the direction which 
the law commands. 

Vice, a common word in speaking of bad conduct, 
means, first of all, a defect : it refers to a deficiency 
in the exercise of that power of self-control of which we 
have before spoken as the root of morality in the pri- 
vate person. One man does not exert himself as he 



90 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

might about his proper work : he has the vice of idle- 
ness. Another does not control his liking for intoxi- 
cating liquors, and he falls into the vice of intemper- 
ance. A third man may have a violent or an irritable 
disposition which he does not control, and he falls into 
the vice of bad temper. So the vicious man practically 
sets up his own pleasure or wilfulness as the law by 
which he acts. He is not strong, but weak, in that he 
does not have the mastery over himself which full obe- 
dience to the moral law requires. 

Virtue, on the contrary, originally meant manliness, 
and especially the distinctive excellence of a man, 
courage. The word always implies strength, and 
when it came to be applied to conduct, it marked power 
of will to control one's self, according to the law of 
right. The " cardinal," or chief, virtues were formerly 
said to be justice, prudence, temperance, and fortitude. 
Underlying all these is the notion of strength. Jus- 
tice demands the ability to put down one's exorbitant 
wishes and to limit one's self, as well as other persons, 
each to his share. Prudence (from pro-vidence, looking 
forward) signifies a will-power which is sufficient to 
curb our own indolence or extravagance or carelessness 
in view of our probable needs or interests in the future. 
Temperance implies just such a restraint, such a stop- 
ping short of excess, with a view to the more immedi- 
ate consequences. Fortitude is courage, active or pas- 
sive, in doing or bearing. These four " virtues " (from 
the Latin vir, a man) are signs of manliness : they 
belong to the manly mind and the manly will. Injus- 
tice, imprudence, intemperance, and cowardice are 
equally marks of moral weakness in a person. A train- 
ing in virtue, then, is like physical training : its object 
is to give strength and power of self-control. In one 
case we strengthen the muscles by use that they may 
be ready servants of the will in time of need. In the 
other cas-e we strengthen our powers of judgment and 



THE GREAT WORDS OF MORALITY. 91 

self-control in small matters, so that we may show our- 
selves equal to emergencies which require the full 
strength of a man in resisting evil. 

" Conscience " is the word we use to denote each per- 
son's knowledge of the moral law, or his power of know- 
ing it and passing judgment as to matters of morality. 
Its meaning, etymologieally, is doubtful. "Knowing 
with," its two members (con-sew) signify, but "knowing 
with » what ? Some call it a faculty which gives an im- 
mediate knowledge of right and wrong, and does not 
need instruction, but only opportunity to speak. Others 
would call it a faculty capable of enlightenment like 
any other faculty of the human mind. Into such dis- 
cussions as to the ultimate nature of conscience we have 
no need to enter here. The final ground of right, 
whether in utility or in experience or in intuition, is 
another point which belongs to the theory of ethics, not 
to the practical morality which now concerns us. On 
the main matters of conduct there is virtual agreement 
among civilized men as to what is right and what is 
wrong. Why this, finally, is right or why that is finally 
wrong, is another matter, on which philosophers differ 
and dispute. The great majority of mankind are inter- 
ested only in determining what to do, not what to 
think, in the sphere of conduct. It is agreed by all 
that children need instruction and advice as to right 
and wrong, and a great part of the conversation and 
the writing of grown people consists of the giving of ad- 
vice or suggestion about moral matters. Thus whatever 
our consciences may be, in the last resort, we all need 
instruction as to the facts in any case where we have to 
act, and we need to reason clearly and logically from 
these facts in the light of moral principles generally ad- 
mitted. Not only is this so ; we need to have our inter- 
est in right-doing, by others and by ourselves, kept up 
and quickened by thinking earnestly about conduct and 
clearing our minds, and by purifying and strengthening 



92 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

our wills, so that we shall understand and do and love 
the right. If we are thus drawn toward the moral life 
with the full force of our nature, it is of little conse- 
quence how we define conscience, or what our theory is 
about its origin in the history of our race. Like the 
sense of beauty, the moral sense justifies itself by its 
results, not by its definitions : each aims at a practical 
result, not at the vindication of a theory. The virtuous 
life, all will say, is life in accordance with the highest 
laws of human nature. " Good " is, to us human be- 
ings, whatever is fit or suitable for man ; moral good is 
what is fit or suitable for man to do or be in the society 
of his kind. The good man, morally speaking, is al- 
ways good for something. 



NOTES. 

The teacher will do well to trace the natural history of every 
word that conveys a sense of moral obligation. " Should," he 
will find, for instance, is derived from the Teutonic root skal, to 
owe: thus its meaning is radically the same as that of " ought." 
"Must," — a frequent word in this book, — is often equivalent 
to " ought." One ought to do so and so to attain an end = one 
rnust do it. Right is noted as the straight and obvious course in 
these lines : — 

" Beauty may be the path to highest good, 
And some successfully have it pursued. 
Thou, who wouldst follow, be well warned to see 
That way prove not a curved road to thee. 
The straightest way, perhaps, which may be sought 
Lies through the great highway men call I ought" 

Right is simple, L e. 9 without folds; wrong is often duplicity, 
full of complexities. 

"Man is saved by love and duty," said Amiel; "society rests 
upon conscience, not upon science." " A society can be founded 
only on respect for liberty and justice," M. Taine declares. 

" A right " can be made out only when it can be proved to be 
some person's positive duty; " the right " is what all ought to do, 



THE GREAT WORDS OF MORALITY. 93 

i. e., what they owe to one another, or to society at large. The 
variations of conscience in different times and countries (see 
Wake, The Evolution of Morality) correspond to the degrees of 
enlightenment reached by the human race ; they prove that mo- 
rality is a progressive art, not that right and wrong are delu- 
sions. Conscience needs enlightenment and training, like all 
other human powers. A high stage of progress is marked in 
Carlyle's saying: " There is in man a higher than love of happi- 
ness. He can do without happiness, and instead thereof find 
blessedness." Rights and Duties is a suggestive little manual 
by Mrs. K. G. Wells, and Mr. Smiles's Duty has an abundance 
of illustrative matter. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 
HOME. 

Home is the name we give to the place where our 
family life is lived. The family, made up of father, 
mother, children, and other blood-relatives, is the most 
important and most helpful of human associations. We 
are born into the family, and in our years of weakness 
we are supported and our life made stronger and better 
by the love and help of father and mother, and brothers 
and sisters. When we grow up, we marry and form 
other families, and become ourselves fathers and mo- 
thers, bringing up children, as we were brought up. 
Home, " sweet home," ought to be, as it is to most per- 
sons, the . dearest spot on earth, where we find loving 
words and sympathy and kind deeds, and where we may 
return these, and do each his full part in this small and 
close society, — very powerful for good because it is a 
small body and the " life together " is here intimate and 
continuous. We have certain hours for work away 
from our homes ; we associate with others in school, or 
business, or travel, and in divers other ways ; but at 
home we not only eat at the same board and sleep under 
the same roof, but we know one another and can help 
and love one another day after day, and year after year, 
until in the family we die, as into the family we were 
born. " Home " is the sweetest and strongest word 
in our language, because it stands for so much of love 
and fellow-service, for the tenderest and fairest side of 
our life. 

The family, which makes the home, is a natural insti- 
tution, the outgrowth of our deepest human nature. 



HOME. 95 

The love of man and woman which brings them together 
as husband and wife comes next to the instinct of self- 
preservation in its universality and power. It is the 
foundation of the family, and if we follow it along its 
course of development and refinement in the civilized 
countries of to-day, we find the virtues, that is, the 
strengths and the excellences, which go to make the 
true and perfect home. 

The husband and father is the natural head of the 
family ; on him it depends for its support. He used to 
have in ancient times even the power of life and death 
over his children. But the power which he now has is 
based on right and reason. The wife and mother is his 
friend and dear companion and constant helper. On her 
more than on him, in the natural course of things, the 
daily care of the children rests. To father and mother, 
then, the boys and girls of the house should look up 
with respect and love as older and more experienced 
than themselves, and thus able to teach and guide them 
in many things of which they are ignorant and incapa- 
ble. The first thing necessary to make a happy home is 
cheerful obedience paid by children to their parents, 
who are providing them with food and clothing and 
shelter and education, and who have no greater desire 
than to see their children growing up to be good and 
intelligent men and women. Children in their younger 
years can return but little for the immeasurable love 
and help which their fathers and mothers delight to 
bestow upon them. But they may make life pleasanter 
for their parents by showing a cheerful and contented 
spirit, by returning the love, and doing the little they 
can to aid in the daily work of the family life. In 
running errands, in learning to help itself about dress- 
ing, in tending the baby, for instance, the young child 
may exhibit a loving and helpful spirit, which will 
make it still dearer to the heart of father and mother. 

At home, more than anywhere else, obedience to those 



96 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

* 

who have a natural right to command should be ready 
and cheerful. Our parents are older and wiser than we ; 
they give us directions only for our own good, and have 
our happiness always in view. Until we can see and 
understand the reasons why they order us to do this 
or that, we should do it because they have ordered it. 
Father and mother are the law-makers and law-executors 
for the children, who should obey as the sailor on a ves- 
sel at once obeys the captain or the pilot, as the soldier 
gives instant attention to the command of his officer, 
and as the hired man at work follows the directions of 
his employer. Father and mother are acting for the 
good of the whole family. The children must be content 
to obey, and take their own share, and should not make 
life hard for their parents by disobedience, stubborn- 
ness, idleness, or other forms of selfishness. The Golden 
Eule would teach children to remember constantly how 
much father and mother are doing for them, not only in 
the matters which any one can see, such as care for 
their health and comfort, but also in training them to 
become honest and upright men and women. This is 
the greatest thing that our parents can do for us, to 
bring us up in habits of self-control and truthfulness 
and honor and kindness, so that as we grow older, we 
can be trusted to walk by ourselves and to do the right 
because we know it and prize it, not simply because 
we are ordered to do it. 

But this doing of the right is, quite naturally, what 
children often like very little or dislike very much. 
They want to have their own way, whether it is the 
right and reasonable way, or not. They do not always 
" feel like " going to school, or helping their parents or 
brothers and sisters in some small way. But home 
rests upon law and love. The father, who sees so 
much more clearly than the unwilling boy what is right 
and just and fair and reasonable, will make him "mind," 
by force, if necessary. The great law of the home is 



HOME. 97 

helpfulness and kindness from each to all and from all to 
each ; it is always well with us if the law is enforced 
whenever we do not cheerfully obey it. Boys and girls 
are growing up to become fathers and mothers them- 
selves, in their turn, and they cannot learn too soon 
that each must be ready and willing to do his own part 
in the work of life, and be satisfied with his share of 
good and pleasant things, helping and helped, happy 
and making others happy. 

There should be no other place like home to us. 
There is no other place where we can show so plainly 
what we are, — kind and true and helpful, or selfish 
and false and careless of our duty. Moral training be- 
gins here, and throughout life it centres here. When a 
man is a good son or father or husband, he is likely to 
be a true man in business and in the larger life in gen- 
eral, beyond his home. We need, then, to think very 
carefully about our duties at home that we may be 
sources of sweetness and light there. In the right and 
true home we love and help one another without asking 
a return, and from no selfish motive whatever ; begin- 
ning with the simplest forms of duty we rise to the fair- 
est heights of love through self-forgetfulness in kindly 
service. 

The virtues of home are the qualities which tend to 
make it strong in a mutual helpfulness of all the family 
circle, and sweet and pleasant in a beautiful spirit of 
love. To serve, not to be served; to give, not to re- 
ceive ; to help and bless continually by word and 
example, — this makes firm the family bond, and keeps 
home as it should be, the dearest place on earth. The 
virtues, the strength and the excellence of home lie 
deep in justice and right and truth ; but nowhere else 
can we so love and be loved, nowhere else does duty 
so easily pass into affection. Home should, then, be a 
sacred place to us. We do well to remember the Lares 
and Penates, as the old Eomans called the household 



98 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

gods. Their images were in every house ; a perpetual 
fire was kept on the hearth in their honor ; on the table 
the salt-cellar stood for them, and the firstlings of the 
fruit were laid, and every meal was considered as, in a 
sense, a sacrifice to them. When one of the family 
came home after absence, he saluted the Penates as 
well as the family, and thanked them for his safe re- 
turn. So we should consider our home holy ground, — 
too holy for wrong or vice to tread, — a place sacred to 
love and duty. Through these virtues home is deeply 
helpful to our best life beyond the family border. 



NOTES. 



There is a considerable literature on the origin and develop- 
ment of the family in human history. Such a book as E. B. Ty- 
lor's Anthropology (in the closing chapter on Society) will be suf- 
ficient for most uses. It is of vastly more consequence to study 
family life in its highest excellence to-day than to trace its ani- 
mal beginnings. Ethics is concerned more with what ought to 
be than with what is or what has been; at the same time, a 
knowledge of the past and the present is necessary to any wise 
attempt to shape the future. Herbert Spencer, in his Justice, 
marks this fundamental difference between family ethics and 
state ethics : " Within the family group most must be given where 
least is deserved, if desert is measured by worth. Contrariwise, 
after maturity is reached benefit must vary directly as worth; 
worth being measured by fitness to the conditions of existence." 

The monogamous family is the form under which modern civ- 
ilized man obeys the imperious instinct which bids the race pre- 
serve itself. Self-preservation, in its broadest sense, is the com- 
panion-instinct. The dictates of both are obeyed in the close 
cooperation of the family, where the most exigent duties are ren- 
dered easy by the strong affections naturally engendered. The 
monogamous family, Goethe said, is man's greatest conquest 
over the brute; it rests not upon mere animal inclination, but 
upon the most constant obedience to duty, — an obedience ren- 
dered easy and happy by use and love. 



HOME. 99 

Some classic poems of home are the " Cotter's Saturday- 
Night ; " Cowper's " Winter Evening ; " Wordsworth's lines to 
the lark, " Ethereal minstrel, pilgrim of the sky ; " and Whittier's 
" Snow Bound." Three good books are Home Life, by J. F. W. 
Ware ; Home Teaching, by E. A. Abbott; and The Duties of 
Women, by F. P. Cobbe. The pamphlet lessons on Home Life, 
by Mrs. Susan P. Lesley, are suggestive. 



CHAPTEE IX. 
WORK. 

Man is born to work and employ his powers of body 
and mind for good ends. That we have strength is a 
sign that we were intended to use it in order to preserve 
our life and make it comfortable through our exertions. 
That one may eat and drink, have clothing and shelter, 
get an education, own a house, be able to travel, or enjoy 
life in any one of a thousand ways, he must work, or 
some one must work for him. No human being is free 
from the necessity or the duty of working and making 
use of his natural powers. 

Now all work has its conditions of success, and these 
demand certain qualities which we will call the virtues 
of work. They are such excellences of character as 
Industry, Punctuality, Orderliness, Intelligence, and 
Economy. Taking a general view of all kinds of labor, 
we see that to do any work well and succeed in gaining 
a good result, we must comply with these natural moral 
conditions ; if we will not, then we fail, whatever our 
other virtues may be. As each one of us grows up and 
takes to some special kind of business to support him- 
self and those dependent on him, he is obliged to learn 
the proper ways of doing things, whether it be farming, 
or carpentering, or teaching, or practising law, for in- 
stance. Each pursuit has to be learned by itself, hav- 
ing its special works and needs. One person must live 
on a farm and work under a farmer to learn agriculture ; 
another must go into a printing-office and learn his 
" case " if he would be a compositor ; a third must go 
to college and a professional school to learn medicine or 



WORK. 101 

law. But in all these directions we find work has its 
general laws, the same everywhere, and we cannot begin 
too soon to recognize them and obey them, whatever we 
are doing. 

I. We must be industrious. This means that we 
must be willing and ready each of us to do at least the 
share of work that comes to him, at home, in the school- 
room, or in business. We must learn to like work, if 
we do not naturally enjoy it, by working, and to rejoice 
in the fact that we are accomplishing something in this 
world. We have to form a habit, by practice, of steady, 
patient, and persevering labor. We must have intervals 
for rest and play or recreation, but while we work we 
should work with our might, and while we play, let us 
play ; work and play are successful and reach their aim 
only when so taken. If we idle when w r e should be 
working, some one else must do the work that w r e should 
have done, and thus the fundamental rule, "each his 
part/' is violated. Pure idleness is shirking one's duty 
as a soldier deserts his regiment. Idling over one's 
work, " scamping " it, is unjust to those who employ ns, 
and naturally leads to our discharge. Into what we are 
doing we should put our whole strength ; if disagree- 
able work is before us we must learn not to be concerned 
about the disagreeableness and in time the task will be- 
come easier and less irksome. The first law of each 
place of work is work ! School is the place to study 
in ; the blacksmith's shop, the cotton-mill, the shipyard, 
are places in which to use one's hand and eye in steady 
labor ; let us, then, do the head-work or the hand-work 
faithfully. 

II. Most of the work that men do must be done at 
fixed times, if it is to be done well. There must be an 
hour for opening the shop or the factory or the school, 
and at this time the workers must attend, for " time is 
money " to all who w r ork. Punctuality, being true to 
the point of time, is one of the first of business vir- 



102 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

tues. The hour is set for beginning the day's work, and 
we are to be paid for the day's time. If we are late in 
arriving at work, we are not performing our part of the 
agreement, and are thus doing wrong. Business of 
every kind must have its time set for beginning and 
ending, and time has more and more value as men 
become more civilized. So we should imitate in our 
human affairs the punctuality shown by the tides and 
the changes of the moon and even the comets, whose ap- 
pearance is foretold by astronomers, ages beforehand, to 
the minute. When " on time," the school opens with 
all the pupils in their seats at the fixed hour, and the 
lessons and study begin at once. The school work is not 
hindered and delayed by Fred or Mary lagging behind, 
and no one loses the whole or part of an exercise. We 
make engagements with one another to meet at certain 
places, to do certain things, to deliver goods, it may be, 
to join in all sorts of enterprises. Everywhere "punc- 
tuality is the soul of business," and the unpunctual man 
will not be tolerated long in any direction. The railroad 
train will not delay for him, and men who have business 
with him will not wish to continue it if he wastes their 
time by keeping them waiting. In all our dealings with 
each other, in which there is any question of time, 
respect and courtesy demand that we be on time, "pat 
betwixt too early and too late." 

III. Orderliness is necessary to success in business. 
There must not only be a time for everything to begin 
and to end, but there must also be a place for every- 
thing. In a well-managed carpenter's shop, for exam- 
ple, each saw and hammer and file has its hook or nail 
or slot where it belongs. When needed it is taken 
from that place, and when it has been used it is re- 
turned there. No time is then wasted in looking for it 
here and there, as in a shop where the workmen are 
slack and careless. 

The orderly workman begins at the beginning of his 



WORK. 103 

work : he keeps to one job at a time, so far as he can, 
until it is finished : then he takes up another. He ar- 
ranges his work beforehand in such order that it will 
require the least outlay of time and strength to do it 
well. He has his mind on his business ; all his energy 
and intelligence and skill he directs wisely, so as to 
procure the largest and best result. 

IV. Not only should every worker be as methodical 
and systematic as possible, for his own good and the 
good of all, skill is a duty for him. Here is a certain 
thing to do 7 co raise a crop, or build a house, or manage 
a railroad. Since man is an intelligent being and can 
know, if he will, many of the causes and ways of things, 
the farmer, the builder, and the locomotive engineer are 
bound to understand their business : each should 
study persistently the nature of the forces and the 
materials with which he has to deal, and acquaint him- 
self practically with the methods that other men have 
used to attain the end he is seeking himself. The best 
way of doing a thing does not come # by chance to one 
who is ignorant and careless ; it comes to those who 
use their eyes and ears and their whole minds, carefully 
and patiently. The successful worker is the one who 
concentrates his full power on the task in hand. He 
wishes to do the most good work with the largest and 
best result inside of a given time and in the most eco- 
nomical manner. How to do this is an affair requiring 
thought. So to our virtues of industry and punctuality 
and order and economy, we need to add all the know- 
ledge of our occupation that keen observation and study 
of books or life can give us. 

Intelligence is a duty, as well as perseverance, for 
everybody. Not until we reach the limit of possible 
knowledge or training can we say that we have done 
our full duty, as intellectual beings, to the work that 
lies before us. " The very true beginning of wisdom is 
the desire of discipline." The power and ability that 



104 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

we have by nature are very well, but to be of much use 
or profit in the world, they must be trained : they 
must come and submit themselves to learn the virtues 
of work. Our human society stands firm because of the 
immense amount of patient work that is done day after 
day by millions of workers of all kinds ; and it advances 
in knowledge and beauty and comfort as this work be- 
comes more moral and more intelligent. The idle, the 
careless, the disorderly, the unwilling-to-learn are a 
burden on the industrious, the careful, the orderly, and 
the intelligent ; and each one should resolve not to 
be such a burden, but, by complying with the laws of 
good work, do his own manly part, and so have a right 
to enjoy his own share. 



NOTES. 

There is no lack of inspiring examples to do our best work in 
the lives of the great men of our own generation, of whom the 
newspaper, the monthly magazine, and contemporary books tell 
us. Perhaps the most forcible instruction from biography in 
the virtues of work is based upon the achievements of living 
men. Their word has often telling power, as when Mr. Edison, 
asked for advice how to succeed, answered : " Don't look at the 
clock," i. e., forget yourself in your work, be possessed by it. 

Work is always to be disassociated from worry; see A. K. H. 
B. on A Great Evil of Modern Times. 

" One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, 
Of toil unsevered from tranquillity." 

On the other hand: — 

" Rest is not quitting 

The busy career ; 
Rest is the fitting" 

Of self to its sphere." 

Read from Whittier's " Songs of Labor; " Captains of Industry, 
by James Parton, two series; J. F. Clarke and J. S. Blackie on 
Self-Culture; and Blessed be Drudgery, by W. C. Gannett (it is 



WORE. 105 

u the secret of all culture," he says) . " Idleness," says old Burton, 
" the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief 
author of all mischief." "Labor is man's great function; the 
hardest work in the world is to do nothing." (Dr. Dewey.) 

" There is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. 
Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there 
is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works; in 
idleness alone is there perpetual despair. Work, never so mam- 
monish, mean, is in communication with Nature; the real desire 
to get work done will itself lead one more and more to truth, to 
Nature's appointments and regulations, which are truth. All 
true work is sacred; in all true work, were it but true hand- 
labor, there is something of divineness. Labor, wide as the 
earth, has its summit in heaven." (Carlyle.) 

Work is of the mind as well as of the hand; the tendency of 
civilization is set forth by Sir Thomas More : — 

" The Utopians, when nede requireth, are liable to abide and 
suffer much bodelie laboure ; els they be not greatly desirous and 
fond of it; but in the exercise and studie of the mind they be 
never wery. . . . For whil, in the institution of that weale pub- 
lique, this end is onelye and chiefely pretended and mynded, 
that what time may possibly be spared from the necessary occu- 
pacions and affayres of the commen welth, all that the citizeins 
should withdraw from the bodely service to the free libertye of 
the mind and garnishinge of the same. For herein they sup- 
pose the felicitye of this liffe to consiste." 



CHAPTER X. 
THE LAW OF HONOR. 

The moral law, we have seen, is the law which de- 
clares the proper relations of human beings to each 
other in personal conduct. Like every other natural 
law, it is disclosed to us by study and observation of 
the beings whom it governs. It governs them because 
it is a part of their nature, which they cannot escape. 
Man is a social being, and if he would live in society as 
he desires, he must obey the laws of the social life : of 
these laws the moral law is a most important part. A 
portion of it is written down in the statute law of the 
land, and is carried into effect against wrong-doers by 
courts and police and prisons. 

Another part is recognized in this or that country as 
binding on all ; but men do not judge it expedient to 
pass laws concerning it. A power that Ave call " public 
opinion " enforces certain duties, such as the education 
of a man's children according to his means, without 
legal penalties. The law of the land obliges every par- 
ent to send his children to school so many weeks in the 
year ; in the State of Massachusetts this must be done 
up to the age of fourteen. This is all that the legisla- 
ture, or the State, thinks it wise to attempt in the way 
of obliging all parents to educate their children. But 
when a man is amply able to send his children to the 
high school or to college, and they wish to go, public 
opinion says that he ought to send them ; and so much 
do men, in general, care for the good opinion of their 
fellow-men, that children not rarely receive this further 
education when the parents themselves do not admit 



THE LAW OF HON OB. 107 

the intellectual need of it. Public opinion, is, however, 
a very variable thing, and it often represents a sort of 
compromise between all kinds and degrees of private 
opinions, when it concerns a moral question. There 
must be some persons whose opinion is worth more 
than that of others on a point of right and wrong, just 
as there are on a matter of art or science. These per- 
sons every one will recognize as the honorable people, 
those who live according to the moral law of honor. 

I. There are two very opposite senses in which a per- 
son may be " a law to himself." A man may be willing 
and ready to defy and disobey the moral law whenever 
and wherever he thinks he can do so safely. If the 
offence he has in mind is one against the written law, 
he will commit it in case he thinks himself sure not to 
be found out, or in case he cares less for the shame of 
the punishment than for the advantage to be gained 
from the crime. This man's law is his own self-interest, 
or the gratification of his passions, whether for his in- 
terest or not. He will carfe little for public opinion in 
respect to matters of which the law says nothing. So 
he will lie and cheat and steal and break his promises 
whenever he considers it to be for his own advantage. 
He will rob and do personal violence, perhaps even 
commit murder, if he considers himself very likely to 
escape punishment. He thus puts himself outside the 
moral law which declares these deeds wrong in them- 
selves, and makes his own will his law. But such con- 
duct is directed against the very life of human society, 
which would go to pieces if it were practised to any 
great extent. Therefore these dangerous classes, the 
open enemies of order and civilization and morality, 
must be kept down. Laws are passed against them : 
the constable and the policeman, the criminal courts, 
the jails and the prisons, and the gallows in the last 
resort, are employed against these savages and barba- 
rians who are survivals from the times before mo- 
rality. 



108 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

Other enemies of morality are those men who are 
more crafty and prey on their fellow-men by taking 
advantage of the imperfections of the statute law to de- 
fraud and do any other wrong which they think for 
their own interest. They do not kill, or rob on the 
highway ; but they make war on their kind by craft. 
Morality is to them simply an outside restraint : they 
cannot be trusted to do right when to do wrong would 
be for their own profit. Both these classes, the violent 
and the crafty, are " a law to themselves " in the bad 
sense that they reject all law but their own will. 

II. At the other extreme in human society stand 
those men and women who are a law to themselves 
in the good sense of the phrase. They see that all the 
laws which mankind has ever made are but clumsy and 
imperfect attempts to carry out the full moral law as 
the highest minds and the best hearts perceive and feel 
it. They do what they know to be just, not because 
the authorities will otherwise punish them, but because 
they realize that justice is the one fit thing for men to 
do to one another. They keep the peace because they 
love peace and the things which peace brings. They 
tell the truth because they wish to live themselves and 
to have others live, at all times, in a real world ; their 
word does not need to be supported by an oath, — it is 
always to be relied upon. Their verbal promises are as 
good as written contracts made before witnesses and 
under penalty. They pay regard to every known right 
of others because they feel that we are members one of 
another in society, and that " no man ever hurt himself 
save through another's side." 

To live in this way is to live under the law of 
honor. Every honorable man feels bound to live up to 
his fullest knowledge of right, without regard to the 
statute law or to public opinion, which are Satisfied with 
a lower standard. He is very sure that both are, and 
must be, imperfect, and that his duty is to remedy their 



THE LAW OF HONOR. 109 

imperfections and to show in his own practice a nearer 
approach to what is demanded by the full moral law. 
His own enlightened conscience is his guide : it tells 
him to square his conduct not by the letter of morality, 
but by its spirit. " Conscientiousness n means having 
a delicate conscience and paying instant heed to it, in 
small things as in great things. To be conscientious, 
to be high-minded, to be magnanimous, to be honorable, 
— these are one and the same thing : the words mark 
the person to whom morality has become real and vital. 
The conscientious are truthful in the extreme degree ; 
the magnanimous do nothing mean by taking advantage 
of the weakness or the mistakes of others ; the honor- 
able are themselves the highest moral law incarnate. 
The essence of honor is in fixing one's eye upon the re- 
sult to character of any action and then acting as self- 
respect and kindness dictate. To follow the law of 
honor is the ideal of morality ; and no one desiring to 
live the right life should be satisfied until he values the 
moral life for itself as the highest and best expression 
of refined human nature : then he is one of the truly 
honorable of the earth. 

Any practice that is dishonorable, however common, 
bears its condemnation in itself : it must disappear be- 
fore a more active moral sense, a better instructed pub- 
lic opinion, or more thorough-going legislation. Every 
honorable man has the duty laid upon him of raising 
the standard of morality in his business or profession. 
There are tricks in every trade which do not cease to 
be evil because they are common ; there are offences 
against truth in every profession, which are none the 
less wrong because they are nearly universal. Morality 
and business, honor and trade, must be kept together. 
No man is justified in saying to his conscience, prescrib- 
ing the law of honor, what Frederick the Great used to 
say to his people demanding a reform : " You may say 
what you like : I will do what I like. 7 ' 



110 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

A reputation for honorable dealing has a high busi- 
ness value : honor pays in the commercial sense, if a 
man will trust in it, in the long run, if not immediately. 
When the farmer " tops off M his barrels of apples or 
potatoes, or his boxes of berries ; when the grocer sells 
oleomargarine for butter ; when the tailor palms off an 
ill-made suit of clothes upon a near-sighted person ; 
when the manufacturer sells shoddy for woollens, they 
are short-sighted. Steady custom cannot be kept by 
such tricks. A reputation for honorable dealing is of 
more value than all that can be made by occasional im- 
position. 

But honor pays in a much higher sense. One of 
the surest foundations of morality is a just self-respect. 
A man who has lost his self-respect cannot be trusted : 
he cannot trust himself. Dishonorable practice saps 
this foundation : it introduces a kind of dry rot into 
the moral life. When some unusual strain of tempta- 
tion to do gross wrong comes upon a man who has been 
guilty of dishonorable conduct, perhaps known only to 
himself, he will probably go down, as the great Tay 
bridge went down in the night, because of some flaw, 
carrying with it hundreds of lives. 

The justly anxious passenger on an ocean steamer, 
in a severe storm, asked the captain if the vessel could 
live through the tempest. " If any ship can; this one 
can," replied the captain ; " I know her builder, and I 
know that she was built on honor." That is a good 
word for all : Build Life on Honor ! When we are 
children at home we cannot begin too soon to make our 
word the exact counterpart of fact so far as we know it, 
and our promise to do anything the assurance of honest 
performance. If we break any precious piece of glass 
or furniture about the house, let us not break the truth 
too : let us fear that damage more than any punishment 
that can come upon us. 

In the school we can build life on honor, by refusing 



THE LAW OF HONOR. Ill 

to prompt, or to be prompted by, another scholar ; we 
can scorn to use " ponies," we can take our examinations 
fairly, without the trick of scribbling the answers before- 
hand on our cuffs or elsewhere ; when we have done 
wrong, we can take our punishment manfully, with- 
out trying to sneak out of it and letting some inno- 
cent person be suspected or even disciplined for it. 
When we leave school and take up the active business 
of life, we can build on honorable work, done carefully 
and faithfully. Let no one need to watch us or inspect 
our performance to see if we have been shortening the 
quantity or " scamping " the quality of our work. We 
agree to work certain hours, on understood conditions ; 
honor bids us fill these hours with patient work, having 
a single eye to the interest of our employer ; it bids us 
live up to every condition of our self-chosen task. 

If we ourselves become employers, building life on 
honor means doing justice to our men, paying wages 
promptly and fully, and recognizing and rewarding 
merit. It means dealing justly in every trade, giving 
fair measure and just weight and due quality. If our 
chosen business has a certain dishonorable practice in it, 
it is our duty to try and " reform it altogether " if we 
can ; no one knows how much he can do to improve the 
morality of his trade or business or profession until he 
has, very earnestly, tried. Honor forbids cheating an 
individual. It forbids cheating a corporation as well ; 
if the " corporation has no soul," this is not a suf- 
ficient reason why you should not have a conscience ! 
Pay your fare, then, if you take your ride in the horse- 
car, or the steam-car ; the corporation has fulfilled its 
part of the contract in transporting you ; fulfil your 
part by paying for the ride. It is dishonorable to take 
advantage of the mistake or oversight of those with 
whom you have dealings ; in making change, or ex- 
change, the honorable man takes and keeps only what 
belongs to him. 



112 TEE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

The honorable lawyer seeks, first of all, to have jus- 
tice done, not to pervert it in the interest of a guilty 
client, that the innocent may suffer. The honorable 
physician prepares himself for his difficult profession 
by long study, and despises the bogus diploma. The 
honorable clergyman respects the dignities of his profes- 
sion, and in all his dealings follows the strictest code of 
personal morals. The honorable statesman makes only 
pledges that he intends to keep, and builds " platforms " 
on which he means to stand. 

Building life on honor is building it like a good mas- 
ter-builder, on honest day-labor, not on a contract out of 
which we seek to profit as much as possible. In the 
end it is always better to be, than to pretend to be. 
We are to respect the law ; we are to respect public 
opinion ; but, most of all, we are to respect our careful 
consciences. " Where you feel your honor grip, let that 
aye be your border," beyond which you will not go. 



NOTES. 

Magnanimity is the end to be sought in all discourse of 
honor. The mind great in virtue, if not in talent, is strong, 
healthy, and serene ; but parvanimity implies weakness, disease, 
and distress. " This is a manly world we live in. Our rever- 
ence is good for nothing, if it does not begin with self-respect." 
(O. W. Holmes.) 

" The wisest man could ask no more of fate 
Than to be simple, modest, manly, true, 
Safe from the many, honored by the few ; 
Nothing to court in Church, or World, or State, 
But inwardly in secret to be great." 

(Lowell.) 

Some have complained that in the human world disease is 
catching while health is not. This is a mistake; health is at 
least as contagious as disease. But in the moral sphere the truth 



THE LAW OF HONOR. 113 

is obvious that honor calls out honor, the best way to advance in 
morality being to take the forward step yourself, relying on the 
innate disposition of men to do as they are done by. See De 
Quincey's story of A Noble Revenge. 

" Be noble ! and the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping but never dead, 
Will rise in majesty to meet thy own." 

The honorable persons in a community are the saving rem- 
nant, and they are never satisfied until public opinion inclines in 
favor of the just way which they advocate and practice. Moral 
progress usually begins with the exceptionally conscientious in- 
dividual. He first persuades a few ; in time the few become 
many, and the public opinion, which governs all modern states, 
soon expresses itself in law, if it is deemed expedient. 

The "law of honor," criticised by Porter (Elements of Moral 
Science), is the technical code prevailing in a certain class or 
profession ; to this his objections are well founded. But the law 
of honor here set forth is limited by no artificial or class distinc- 
tions. Wordsworth's lines describe it: — 

" Say, what is honor ? 'T is the finest sense 
Of justice which the human mind can frame, 
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim, 
And guard the way of life from all offence, 
Suffered or done." 



CHAPTER XL 
PERSONAL HABITS. 

The greater part of morality has reference directly to 
our relations with other persons. But a large portion 
of our duty concerns things that we are to do for our- 
selves, as no one else can do them so well for us, and 
that affect others only mfljrectl;r . 

I. Each of us has to care for his own person. Clean- 
liness of body and neatness in dress are matters of in- 
dividual ethics, which we have to learn to attend to as 
early as we can in life. Such habits as frequent bath- 
ing and cleaning the teeth are parts of that physical 
virtue in which every human being should be diligent. 
Bodily health is so important in every way, in its bear- 
ings on our own happiness and the welfare of others, 
that we should make it no small part of the right life 
to conform all our physical habits t;o ^he rules of health. 
Some say that it is " a sin to be sick ; " certainly, very 
much of the illness and disease in the world is avoid- 
able. If this were prevented, as it might be, then a 
great addition would result to the comfort and pros- 
perity of mankind. 

Among the foremost of the laws of health is Tem- 
perance, or moderation in eating and drinking. Eating 
to excess, not for the sake of satisfying the natural 
desire but for the mere pleasure of gratifying an appe- 
tite artificially stimulated, is a great evil. Gluttony, 
beside causing immediate distress, brings on many dis- 
eases ; it unfits one for mental occupation, and it makes 
one careless of the welfare of others ; it puts the animal 
above the intellectual part of us, where it should not 



PERSONAL HABITS. 115 

be. Enough, is not only " as good as a feast/' but better, 
for it leaves us able to enjoy the pleasures of the mind, 
which the heavily-loaded stomach will not allow. 

Intemperance is so much more plainly and widely 
injurious in the matter of what we drink that the word 
is commonly taken to mean this one kind of bodily ex- 
cess. We are not in much danger of drinking water to 
excess, or those common beverages of the table, tea and 
coffee, although here we sometimes need to be on our 
guard. It is in the direction of those intoxicating 
drinks which are used, more or less, all over the world, 
to produce agreeable sensations, that men are most of 
all intemperate. So immense and wide-reaching are the 
bad effects of indulgence in these intoxicating liquors 
that it is altogether safest to abstain totally from using 
them as a beverage, taking them only in cases of sick- 
ness or absolute need. They are artificial stimulants, 
and the body is usually sounder and better off without 
them. The drunkard puts an enemy in his mouth that 
steals away his brains ; he becomes insane for the time, 
and moral law has no power over him until he becomes 
sober. Through continued indulgence he loses his self- 
respect ; he comes to care only for the gratification of his 
debased appetite, The result is waste and ruin to him- 
self and to all who are dependent upon him. Loss, un- 
happiness, and misfortune of a hundred kinds attend 
upon drunkenness. It has been well said that Debt 
and drink are the two great devils of modern life. 
Total abstinence, then, from the use of intoxicating 
liquors as a beverage, is the part of wisdom and virtue. 

Less injurious, but still to be shunned as an unclean 
and wasteful habit, is the use of tobacco, especially in 
the worst way, — chewing. The frequent use of tobacco 
is apt to lead to drinking, and it is in itself a habit bad 
for the body and bad for the mind; increasing refine- 
ment should put an end to it. 

One may be intemperate in work, in not regarding 



116 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

the limit which his strength and his health fix for him. 
However good the motive, overwork is to be blamed as 
unwise ; injurious to one's self, it spoils the temper, and 
causes more unhappiness than it can cure. Too much 
study is worse even than too much play for the growing 
boy and girl. The course of wisdom for old and young 
is to find how much work of hand or head one can do 
without exhaustion, and stop there. 

Of physical virtue men in ancient Greece used to 
think much, and the men of the civilized world are to- 
day concerning themselves much about it. The sound 
body is always the first thing, in order of time, to attend 
to ; the sound mind shows itself such in asking for 
a sound body as its ready and capable servant and 
helper. To balance work and play ; to keep every nat- 
ural appetite true to its proper office ; to be clean and 
pure and active and sound bodily, — this is a great 
matter in human life, for without physical virtue all 
other virtues lack a strong friend. To physical sound- 
ness some kind of regular bodily work or exercise is 
indispensable. 

II. Next comes intellectual virtue, the duty of cul- 
tivating our minds so that we can " see straight and 
think clear." The chief glory of man is his intellect : 
the very word, "man," is said to mean "the thinker." 
In every civilized state the education of the people is a 
vital matter ; it is especially such here in our own coun- 
try. Nature will look after our bodily growth, if we 
will let her have her own way and not hinder her by 
bad habits. But our minds need more attention, so 
that we may start right in life ; the public schools are 
built, and we go to them as boys and girls that we may 
learn the elements of knowledge, and begin to use our 
minds capably. We are steadily growing intellectually, 
if we spend our time faithfully in school. When we 
leave school, whether it be the grammar school, the 
high school, the college, or the professional school, we 



PERSONAL HABITS. 117 

are more free to fix our own hours and plans of study. 
But we are not intellectually virtuous, we do not show 
ourselves possessed of strong and active intellect, unless 
we continue to cultivate our minds to the extent of our 
ability as long as we live. One way to do this is by 
mastering our work or business, whatever it is, by 
studying it in practice, and by reading what others have 
found out concerning it. Every art has its science, and 
we should never be satisfied to be mere hand-workers 
or to travel round and round the same dull routine. 
Art and science are inexhaustible, and the pleasures of 
the active mind are very pure and high and satisfying. 
Whatever one's intellectual ability may be, he should 
give it lifelong cultivation, as a matter of duty to 
himself and to others. 

We can do the most for others when we make the 
most of our own ability; whether we have positive 
"talent" or not, it is a duty laid upon all to think 
soundly, that we may act wisely and rightly. The mis- 
fortunes of mankind are largely due to insufficiency in 
the knowledge which might be ours, did we strive for 
it, and to vices of the mind such as wilful blindness 
and obstinacy in the face of facts, and loose thinking. 
These troubles might be avoided largely if we remem- 
ber that intellectual virtue is a great part of right-doing. 
In order to do the right we must first know the right, 
and we shall not know it if we are content to be foolish 
or ignorant. Always to be willing to learn, to be fair and 
candid, to defer to facts and the laws of facts, to try to 
think all around a subject and deep into it, to discuss 
disputed matters with good temper and a single desire 
to get at the truth, — these are some of the intellectual 
virtues which have a most important part to play in 
our life. In the common schools we cannot go far 
beyond teachableness; but this is the beginning of 
true intellectual virtue. 

III. Much of our most valuable education we get 



118 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

through the "work we have to do in order to live and 
enjoy life. The training of our will by the discipline 
of school, of business, of regular employment of any 
kind, is necessary if our natural powers are to do their 
best work. We have spoken of " the virtues of work " 
under another head. Here we may mention them again 
with reference chiefly to the person who practises them. 
" Prudence " is a word which marks the application of 
mind to work and life. A shortened form of providence 
(foresight), it implies the training of the eye of the 
mind to look forward that we may prepare in the pres- 
ent for the future. It is a great intellectual and practi- 
cal aptitude to be able to do this. The wisely prudent 
man is self-denying to-day that he may not be in danger 
of starving or some only less severe misfortune next 
month or next year ; he is economical because he knows 
that every little counts in the end : he takes a long look 
ahead, and, like a good chess-player, adjusts his moves 
to this view. 

Every man who wishes to think clearly and act 
wisely must be aware that one of the greatest obstacles 
to both of these excellences is indulgence in bad tem- 
per. When we are peevish and captious, or when we 
are in a positive passion, we cannot see straight, we 
cannot think clearly, we cannot do justly. We need 
to discipline our natural temper, then, to take account 
of ourselves, to realize, from our own knowledge or 
from what others tell us, the chief faults to which 
we are most exposed, the principal weaknesses of our 
minds and the deficiencies in our previous training, that 
we may by earnest self-culture do away with all these 
(oftentimes we think them points of strength), and be- 
come strong by self-control. Suppose that we think 
twice before acting once ; that we stop long enough to 
count twenty before saying the sharp or bitter word 
that is on our tongue. The word will be kinder and 
wiser ! the deed will be better ! The patience we show 






PERSONAL HABITS. 119 

in training a dog or a horse ; the pains we bestow upon 
our own bodily habits when " in training " for a race or 
a match-game, — these are a type of the attention and 
the care that we should give to the training of our 
tongues and our tempers in the ways of sweetness and 
light. 

We have different temperaments by nature : some 
persons are constitutionally more lively, cheerful, and 
fond of society than others. In our judgments upon 
others and on ourselves we cannot properly ask tnat all 
shall act and talk alike : each one must be allowed to 
be himself. But as man is a social being, a degree of 
cheerfulness and sociability is incumbent upon all in 
ordinary life. Cheerfulness may not be in itseli a vir- 
tue, but it is a natural grace ; a happy and pleasant dis- 
position may not be a duty for every one, but all ac- 
knowledge its charm. In the common social relations, 
then, at home and at school, for instance, we do wisely 
to cultivate beauty in action. Modesty, cheerfulness, 
and kindliness in little things of manner belong to the 
beautiful. The " gentleman n and the " lady " show 
the excellence of refinement in conduct. Courtesy, 
which once meant the manners of court where the no- 
.bility lived in wealth and leisure, is the flower of right- 
doing, a flower which any one may cultivate. Strength 
is one of the two things which all men desire. The 
righteous action is usually that which requires the most 
real strength : moral courage, for instance, is the high- 
est kind of courage. But Beauty, the other thing uni- 
versally desired, comes into human actions with kind- 
ness. When it takes the form of politeness to all with 
whom one is brought into contact, of a gracious cour- 
tesy to the nearer circle of one's acquaintances and 
friends, and of personal affection for the nearest of all, 
"the Ought, Duty, is one thing with Science, with 
Beauty, and with Joy." 



120 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 



NOTES. 

" Our work," says Montaigne, " is not to train a soul by itself 
alone, nor a body by itself alone, but to train a man ; and in man 
soul and body can never be divided." The right care of the 
body includes some daily work or exercise ; abstinence from sen- 
suality and intemperance ; regularity in eating and sleeping ; 
cleanliness ; training of the eye and hand ; the acquirement of 
physical skill in our particular trade or craft, if we follow one, 
and the harmonious development of all the bodily powers. Books 
of instruction in physical virtue are nowadays very plentiful, and 
it is not necessary to single out any here for special mention. 
" The first duty of every man is to be a good animal." 

" Intellectual virtue " brings up the vast subject of education 
in general, — that which schools give us and that which we give 
ourselves. The care of the mind is more apt to be neglected 
by good people than it should be. Much bad temper is due to 
ill-advised bodily habits ; so also much wrong proceeds from 
carelessness in finding out the truth, the mental indolence which 
is satisfied with good intentions, when sound thoughts are needed 
almost as much to bring about welfare. Self-culture, in the 
sense of continual progress in knowledge and in the power of 
reasoning well, is within the reach of all in this age of books. 
" Pegging away " at one's own mental deficiencies will produce 
astonishing results. If only an hour or a half-hour a day is 
spent on some really great book, instead of being nearly wasted 
on the newspaper, the result of a few months' perseverance is 
most encouraging. It is in the direction of self-education (the 
best kind of all) that biographies help us greatly. To get the 
utmost profit from them, one should make a personal application 
to himself of the example of virtue set by the man or woman 
whose actual career is portrayed, and ask if there is not some- 
thing especially adapted to himself in the methods of self -dis- 
cipline described. Advice that we give ourselves, incited by the 
record of a true man's life, comes with tenfold power ; it is the 
best of all counsel. 

The allusion in the last paragraph of this chapter is to the 
following words of Rev. F. H. Hedge, D. D. : — 

" There are two things which all men reverence who are 
capable of reverence, — strictly speaking, only two : the one is 



PERSONAL HABITS. 121 

beauty, the other power, — power and beauty ; man is so consti- 
tuted that he must reverence these so far and so fast as he can 
apprehend them. And so far and so fast as human culture ad- 
vances, men will see that holiness is beauty, and goodness, 
power." 



CHAPTEE XII. 
OUR COUNTRY. 

I. Patriotism. We have spoken of the duties that 
we owe to the family, the school, and society in general. 
The family is a small society into which we are born 
and in which we grow up : its obligations are the strong- 
est, even as the ties it makes between human beings are 
the closest. In other associations of men, each having 
a special object, — as when we make part of a school, of 
a business firm, or of a society for the advancement of 
some reform, — we have special duties according to the 
end and aim of the association. But there is a larger 
kind of association of men than the family or the school, 
or business partnership or the reform society, — to name 
no others. It is the natural grouping of great bodies 
of human beings, according to their race or their coun- 
try, into Nations or States. These may include mil- 
lions of people, living under one common law, enjoying 
the benefits of the same government, and bound to- 
gether by the same great duties to it. 

Here in the United States of America, as the name 
shows, we use the word " State " in a special sense to 
mean Massachusetts or Pennsylvania or California, for 
instance, all the different States being united in what is 
called a federal government to make the Nation. The 
distinction is very important politically in our country 
between the State government and the National govern- 
ment. But it is a distinction made for practical conve- 
nience, and it does not affect the fundamental notion of 
the State as the association of men under one govern- 
ment. When we speak of the State here then, we may 



OUB COUNTRY. 123 

intend sometimes a particular State of the Union in 
which we live and sometimes the Nation, — the United 
States ; but we always mean a great association of hu- 
man beings for political ends. Whatever name it may 
bear, the State, large or small, is the supreme earthly 
power over each and every person in it. Usually, it is 
an association of multitudes of people of the same race 
in one particular land, — their native country, — as 
with the French in France or the Italians in Italy. In 
our own land we are a people made up of many races ; 
but we are still one people, living in one country and 
subject to one government. 

We Americans cannot be patriots after the manner 
of men who live in a small country with a king over 
them to whom they owe loyalty, and whose will is 
largely law to them. Our country is very great in size, 
and each one of us is part of the power that rules it all. 
As the Italian is loyal to the king, or the German to the 
emperor, we have to be loyal to the people. For the 
great American idea is that u The people rule." Gov- 
ernment is here of the people, by the people, for the 
people, as Theodore Parker and Abraham Lincoln have 
said. This is the democratic principle which is carried 
out in a republican form of government. The Ameri- 
can patriot is one who is loyal to this great principle of 
equal rights and equal duties, and will give his life, if 
need be, to aid the government which stands to* defend 
it. Our country has a right to anything we can give : 
nothing that we can give her is equal to all that she 
secures to us, — our life, our liberty, and the pursuit of 
happiness. So when our country is in danger, from a 
foreign foe or from civil war, it is the simplest, plain- 
est and foremost of all duties for each and every citi- 
zen to be ready to take up arms in her defence. For 
her defence means the defence of all that we hold dear, 
— family, home, friends, our great institutions, our high 
principles, our inspiring ideas of human brotherhood. 



124 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

We will not say " Our Country, right or wrong ! " in 
dealing with foreign nations, but Our Country for- 
ever ; we will keep it safe and hold it right ! In 
time of war our native land must first be defended 
against every assault : in time of peace it must be made 
the home of justice. When we see the veterans of the 
Grand Army of the Republic marching through the city 
streets, some of them bearing the tattered flags which 
once they carried through the smoke and fiery hail of 
battle, we loudly cheer these standards, and our blood 
thrills, for the flag is the sign of Our Country, and we 
feel that, like those war-stained men, we, too, would 
follow the flag to save the State. In great love for 
man, for the cause of our fatherland, we, too, would dare 
everything. 

" Though Love repine and Reason chafe, 
There conies a voice without reply : 
'T is man's perdition to be safe, 

When for the Truth he ought to die." 

Happily, in our peaceful land, the call for such su- 
preme devotion rarely comes. Whenever it has come, it 
has always been heeded by the great mass of men, who 
show how natural and right, how sweet and beautiful 
it is to die for their country. Rare, indeed, is the man, 

" With soul so dead, 
Who never to himself has said 
4 This is my own, my native land.' " 

And when we say it, we feel that our country has a su- 
preme claim upon us. It is the largest part of the 
whole human race the thought of which moves any but 
great and exceptional natures to self-sacrifice. We may 
be sure, too, that he will lo\e all mankind best who 
loves his country best, and by his devotion makes it the 
strongest helper of all the sons of earth. 

Men are more wont to feel deeply patriotic in time of 
war than in time of peace. The thought of our whole 
country as above party and creed, above North or South 



OUR COUNTRY. 125 

or East or West, finds us and moves us most profoundly 
when the welfare of the whole country is visibly threat- 
ened. In time of peace, by far the longer time of the 
two, we are thinking mainly about our family, our busi- 
ness, our local interests, and of the things in general 
which are apt to divide one section or one State from 
another. The main duty of the citizen in peace is to 
save the State, not from destruction from without, but 
from error and wrong-doing within. Patriotism then 
takes another form, as important to the welfare of all 
as volunteering for the battle-field. 

II. Political Duty is this other form of patriotism, 
the duty, that is, of doing one's part in the government 
of our country, in State and Xation. Every man over 
twenty-one years of age has the right to vote for other 
men who shall represent him, i. e., stand for him, in the 
work of making and administering the laws. Each 
man is, therefore, a ruler in this country. His power 
and right as a voter brings along with it a very plain 
duty to exercise the right and use the power for the 
good of all. This signifies to the American voter four 
things : He should keep himself well-informed on public 
questions. He should do his part by his words toward 
constituting a right public opinion, made up of a great 
sum of single opinions become powerful by union. He 
should vote according to his own convictions of truth 
and justice. He should not, as a rule, seel: office, but he 
should be ready to hold it for the public good when 
called to it by the voice of his fellow-citizens. 

There are, usually, in a free country some great ques- 
tions of public policy on which political parties are 
formed. One party advocates a certain line of action ; 
another would do differently if entrusted with the 
power of government. In our country there are now 
opposite views about the tariff, for instance, about the 
coinage of silver, and about the proper relations of the 
National government to the State governments. As 



126 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

each man by his single vote can affect the policy which 
is at last adopted by Congress, he should cast this vote 
intelligently. He should enlighten himself as to tariffs 
and free trade, for example, and vote so that his con- 
viction as to what the welfare of the country demands 
may be carried into effect. He should not be satisfied 
to take his opinions from the newspapers of the party 
with which he usually votes, and let them do his think- 
ing for him, talking and voting as they say. He should 
read books written by able men who are not partisans, 
on the particular subjects in debate, and he should in- 
form himself, generally, about the history of our coun- 
try, and have some knowledge, the more the better, of 
the sciences of politics and economics. The intelligent 
citizen who knows for what he is voting, and why, is 
the mainstay of the Republic. The illiterate voter 
who does not know what he is voting for, or why, is the 
greatest danger to free institutions. 

It is the duty of every citizen who has thus formed 
an intelligent opinion on political matters to do his part 
in creating and sustaining a sound public opinion. This 
he can do by feeling and showing an interest in politics 
in the good sense of the word : this is not a selfish 
scramble for office, but the discussion and settlement of 
great public questions according to reason and right, 
through men of ability and character. Especially in 
the case of reform movements in political life is it the 
duty of each individual to stand up for w r hat he honestly 
believes to be the right, and to express himself openly 
and freely in favor of the specific measure which would 
save the Eepublic from harm. The history of all re- 
forms proves how important is the duty resting upon 
the private citizen to use his right of free speech. 
Slavery was abolished in this country as the final result 
of agitation by individuals endeavoring to arouse the 
conscience of the people. So it will be with the politi- 
cal evils of our own day : the faithful conscience of 



OUR COUNTRY. 127 

the individual is the power which is to destroy them, 
sooner or later. 

Xo man who has the right to vote has a moral right 
to refrain from voting, whenever it is possible for him. 
The plainest part of his political duty, bound up with 
his very right, is to exercise the suffrage. He is not 
doing his duty to his country when he stays away from 
the polls on election day, whatever the real cause may 
be, — indifference, contempt, or absorption in business 
or pleasure. The one method that avails in our coun- 
try for procuring just laws and honest officials is to 
vote for capable and worthy men. Under this method 
each vote counts, and each voter should see that his 
own vote is thrown. He is not responsible when the 
opposite party succeeds in electing a bad man or in car- 
rying a wrong measure, if he has voted against them : 
the responsibility rests upon the other party. But he 
is responsible to the extent of his vote if his own 
party elects a bad man or passes a wrong law. Hence, 
he is not only bound to vote, and to vote intelligently, 
but to vote with a single eye to the public good, with a 
certain party or against it, according to his own reason 
and conscience. 

Few men are qualified by their abilities or character 
to serve the State in high political positions. But in 
the civil service, as a whole, there is a proper opening 
for any one who desires to work for the town, the city, 
the State, or the Xation rather than for a private em- 
ployer. This routine business of the government has 
nothing to do with the political issues of the day, and 
should be kept apart from them and be conducted on 
strictly business methods and principles. When so 
conducted, it is open on equal conditions to every citi- 
zen w^ho is capable and worthy, without regard to his 
politics. The representative offices should not be 
sought by the private citizen ; but when his fellow-citi- 
zens call upon him to represent them in the town or 



128 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

city government, in the legislature or in Congress, their 
summons should be heeded, unless there are strong rea- 
sons to the contrary. The talents and the worth of all 
its citizens are properly subject to the call of the com- 
munity, and the public service should be esteemed by 
every one as the most honorable of all services. 

In time of peace, then, the patriot thinks upon these 
political duties, — his obligations to inform himself, to 
spread right views, to vote, and to hold office at the 
will of the people. 



NOTES. 



I. The teacher will find without difficulty in the works of the 
leading American poets, and in " Speakers " containing extracts 
from our most noted orators, selections suitable for reading that 
are calculated to inspire an intelligent patriotism. Such poems 
are numerous in James Russell Lowell's works in particular : see 
" The Present Crisis " (" When a deed is done for freedom ") ; the 
Biglow Papers ; his poems of the war, his three centennial poems, 
and, most of all, the " Commemoration Ode." Longfellow (" Thou 
too sail on, O Ship of State "), Holmes (" The Flower of Lib- 
erty "), Whittier (" Democracy " and numerous war poems), and 
Bryant have written many noble verses of patriotism. Webster, 
Everett, Winthrop and G. W. Curtis are names of orators that 
will occur at once to the instructor of American youth ; Lincoln's 
address at Gettysburg is foremost. Relating to patriotism in 
other times and countries are such poems as Byron's lines " They 
fell devoted but undying;" " Horatius," by Macaulay, Brown- 
ing's " Herve' Riel," and " A Legend of Bregenz," by Adelaide 
A. Procter. There are several good collections of ballads of 
heroism. 

II. " Defence against the attack of barbarians from within is 
as essential in our democracies as defence against the foe from 
without." (Guyau.) The demagogue, well set forth long ago in 
Aristophanes' Knights (see J. H. Frere's translation), is the chief 
pest of democratic countries. " The people's government " of 
which Webster spoke, " made for the people, made by the people, 
and answerable to the people," must conform to the laws of poli« 



OUR COUNTRY. 129 

tics aud economics. Every citizen should understand somewhat 
of these laws and of the history of his country in which they have 
been exhibited. Happily there is a fast increasing number of 
good books on civil government, citizenship, and elementary eco- 
nomics ; there is now no sufficient excuse for ignorance in these 
matters. Among the best of these volumes are John Fiske's Civil 
Government in the United States, Charles Nordhoff's Politics for 
Young Americans, Professor J. Macy's Our Government, and C. F. 
Dole's American Citizen. No public-school teacher can afford to 
be ignorant of Bryce's American Commonwealth. The Old South 
Leaflets contain the great documents of Anglo-Saxon freedom, 
which it is well to read entire. Mr. Fiske's book gives full 
bibliographical data for all who would inform themselves con= 
cerning our free institutions and their history. 



CHAPTEE XIII. 
CHARACTER. 

A character, if we use the word in its most literal 
sense, is a mark or sign by which we may know a thing 
or a person. Character in the most general sense is 
the sum of all the intellectual and moral qualities which 
make one human being different from another. We 
will speak here of moral qualities only. This man has 
a bad character, we say : he will drink, steal, lie, or 
cheat when he has opportunity. That man, on the con- 
trary, is a man of good character : he is truthful, tem- 
perate, honest, and industrious. The servant-girl leav- 
ing one situation for another asks her mistress to " give 
her a character." This illustrates another common use 
of the word in which we employ it as by itself equiva- 
lent to " good character : " it is the sense in which we 
shall speak of character in this chapter ; we mean by it 
the collection and blending of distinctively good traits 
or qualities in a person. 

A man's character, of course, is what he is in him- 
self, not what he owns as something outside of him- 
self, or something he has personal relations with, as 
with his family or his partner in business. jSTow what 
he is in himself largely determines both what he will 
own and what relations he will have with other people. 
Very important, indeed, is it to a man, and to all con- 
nected with him, what he owns, — money, house, land, 
ships, warehouses full of goods, whatever it may be. 
But it is a great deal more important, both to himself 
and to others with whom he is in contact, what he is in 
himself, in his disposition and character. Health 



CHARACTER. 131 

has more to do with happiness than wealth, and few 
persons, probably, would choose a fortune if compelled 
to take bad health with it. Health of mind, soundness 
of soul, comes from living morally, L e., according to 
the laws of the life together, just as physical health is 
dependent on keeping the laws of the body. If we 
have health of mind and heart, this, again, is a still 
more important matter than what we own. Our wel- 
fare and the welfare of others with whom Ave are living 
depend far more on our being kind, truthful, and just, 
than on the number of thousands of dollars we may or 
may not own. 

Character is, therefore, properly, an aim in itself, 
i. e., a thing to be desired for its own sake. This we 
say not because it is out of relation to actual life or the 
persons in it, or can be separated from these, for all 
things in the world are related to one another, but be- 
cause it is so evidently of the highest value when logi- 
cally considered, apart. We say that a certain man has 
a strong, independent, self-reliant character. He has 
the qualities in him indicated by these adjectives ; he is 
mentally and morally strong, self-contained, and able to 
stand alone against a number of men in the wrong. 
When any occasion comes for showing strength of mind 
and will, he will be prepared. Plainly, it is well that 
he should have been accumulating this strength before- 
hand, if there is, indeed, any way to do it. So with the 
kindness, the power to tell the truth or to do justly ? 
that we are needing every day we live. If there is any 
way to store up in ourselves moral strength and 
beauty, which are demanded by the life in common, 
surely the knowledge of it is most desirable. 

Two things we must here bear in mind, especially. I. 
The good character that we show in our life-actions is 
not like a purse having so many dollars in it, out of 
which we take one or ten, as the case may be, and 
which we must be careful to fill up again before the 



132 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

money is all drawn out. It is, on the contrary, like a 
muscle of the arm which grows stronger by exercise, 
like a faculty of the mind, such as memory, which 
improves by practice. Our ability to tell the truth, to 
do honest actions, or to conduct ourselves graciously 
toward others, is a power that grows with use, and the 
good act becomes easier to us each time that we do it. 

II. Consequently we are wise when we aim directly 
at the good quality or moral faculty in itself. In other 
words, it is always well to do right because it is 
right. It is usually a difficult thing to trace out in our 
minds the probable consequences of this or that act 
which we are purposing to do, to imagine how it will 
affect this or that particular person, and a whole multi- 
tude of others. But if we know that it is right, so far 
as we can see, and that to do it will strengthen in our- 
selves the power to do right again, then we have con- 
sidered, in the vast majority of cases, all that we need 
to consider. We must bear in mind that mankind has 
been living many thousands of years on this earth, and 
that all this time men have been learning from experi- 
ence, hard or pleasant, sweet or bitter, how to live the 
life together. The teachings of this great, this vast 
experience have been solidified into the common moral 
rules concerning truthfulness and honesty and peaceful- 
ness and industry and all the other virtues and their 
opposite vices. These rules are repeated, again and 
again, in books, in proverbs about conduct, and in the 
daily talk of men giving advice to one another, or prais- 
ing or condemning other men's actions. We ought to 
profit by this experience of multitudes of men who have 
been before us, so as to avcid their errors and defeats, 
and imitate only their wisdom and their victories. 
Obedience to a few plain rules is all that we need 
most of the time. But the few strong instincts, of 
which the poet also speaks, are not strong enough in 
us to bring about complete and constant obedience. 



CHARACTER. 133 

We wish to have our own way and do as we please, 
without regard to the effect on other people, who have 
just as much right as we — i. e., none at all — to have 
their own way and do as they please. So we act as if 
we lived in a world where the most important of all 
affairs, the dealings of men with each other, were not 
subject to steadfast laws which take no account of your 
conceit or my selfishness, but forever determine that if 
men are to live in society and become civilized, they 
must do thus and so, as the severe and beautiful moral 
laws declare. Otherwise society cannot prosper : it 
cannot even be at all, and every individual must suf- 
fer accordingly. 

When we consider how perpetually we are acting and 
reacting on each other, and how our human life is 
three fourths conduct, if not more, we see how vastly 
important it is to make morality easy and natural to 
ourselves so that we shall, indeed, seem to be acting 
always from those " few strong instincts." How shall 
we do this ? In just the same way, fundamentally, 
that any one must follow who would acquire any other 
art. If a boy would learn to be a carpenter he must 
handle the saw and the chisel often : if a girl would be- 
come skilful on the piano-forte, she must first prac- 
tise scales and other exercises by the hour. Faculty 
comes from practice : skill is the result of industry 
in doing the thing. We see about us in the world men 
and women who are brave and generous and capable 
and true and kind and noble and sweet and gracious, 
whose words and acts are a great power of good to all 
who meet them or know of them. These persons are 
masters in the moral art. What they have done we, 
perchance, can do ; and we can begin to do it, in a small 
way and a slight degree. We gain strength and skill 
with practice, like the blacksmith at the anvil or the 
player at the piano-forte ; thus we find, in time, the 
moral line of least resistance, and do the right easily, 



134 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

naturally, and spontaneously. Until we do it so, it is 
not done beautifully, and no art is perfect until it 
comes to beauty as well as to propriety. The higher 
powers and graces of conduct are unattainable until the 
ordinary virtues have become so natural to us through 
habit that we do right without thought, as without diffi- 
culty. " Habit a second nature/' said the great Duke 
of Wellington ; — "it is ten times nature." * 

We can remake ourselves to an indefinite extent, in- 
side the limits of human nature, and the method is the 
formation of other habits. A certain good action may 
be very hard for us to do at first, but if we continue 
to do it, the difficulty diminishes and at last disappears : 
the action has become natural to us. But the " nature " 
we have in mind, in so speaking, is not the undisci- 
plined nature Ave had two or ten years ago as it was, 
but that nature trained and cultivated by the exercise 
of will, aiming at a certain moral strength. We have 
left a lower character beneath us, and have climbed up 
to a higher. 

We should then, each one of us, take ourselves in 
hand and realize that moral goodness is, least of all 
things, to be given by one person to another, that, be- 
yond all other desirable possessions, it is an art to be 
acquired by personal practice and individual experience ; 
that more than in any other direction, we can learn here 
from the errors and the excellences of others what to 
avoid and what to pursue ; that here supremely, to be 
is better than to seem, and that if we aim to be like 
the good and the true, to enjoy their repute and wield 
their power, we must patiently acquire their skill in 
goodness, their faculty of righteousness. 

We should encourage ourselves with remembering 
the immense aid we can derive from the record of the 
lives of the men and women who have made morality 
the finest of all human arts, not by their sublime in- 

1 This saying will bear a second quotation. 



CHARACTER. 135 

tellects or their illustrious deeds, but by heroic per- 
severance in self-control and self-devotion. Greater 
than this help even is the aid that we can all impart 
to one another by living sympathy and helpfulness. 
Sweetness and light, — we can give a small portion 
of these to one another every day, making the burdens 
easier and the path plainer. Cogitavi vias meas : "I 
have considered my ways." When we consider them 
well we ask for guidance from the noble and the true 
of the past and the present By dwelling on their ex- 
ample and on the ideal of the perfect man who unites 
all virtues and all excellences, we are inspired to be- 
come something better than we are ; by patient continu- 
ance in well-doing we are slowly transformed into the 
image of our hope ! 



NOTES. 



The teacher of morals will do well to conclude every lesson 
by striking the note of character, distinguished from the note of 
external consequences as a test of conduct, and from the note of 
circumstances as a rule of action. " The character itself should 
be to the individual a paramount end, simply because the exis- 
tence of this ideal nobleness of character, or of a near approach 
to it, in any abundance, would go further than all things else 
toward making human life happy, both in the comparatively 
humble sense of pleasure and freedom from pain, and in the 
higher meaning of rendering life not what it now is almost uni- 
versally, puerile and insignificant, but such as human beings 
with highly developed faculties can care to have." — J. S. Mill, 
Logic, Bk. vi. Ch. 12. 

" It always remains true that if we had been greater, circum- 
stances would have been less strong against us." — George 
Eliot in Middlemarch. 

" A healthy soul stands united with the Just and the True, as 
the magnet arranges itself with the pole, so that he stands to all 
beholders like a transparent object betwixt them and the sun, 
and whoso journeys towards the sun journeys towards that per- 



136 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

son. He is thus the medium of the highest influence to all who 
are not on the same level. Thus men of character are the 
conscience of the society to which they belong." (Emerson, 
" Character.") The Chinese have a proverb : " He who finds 
pleasure in vice and pain in virtue is still a novice in both." 

"Even in a palace life may be led well ! 
So spoke the imperial sage, purest of men, 
Marcus Aurelius. . . . 
The aids to noble life are all within.'* 

M. Arnold. 

The " literature of power," as distinguished from the " litera- 
ture of knowledge," tends to shape character in manifold ways. 
A large part of the great literature of the world, judged by lit- 
erary standards, has immense influence, directly and indirectly, 
in forming the conduct of men. Lectures, sermons, and vol- 
umes on character are innumerable : see, simply as specimens, 
four books, Emerson's Conduct of Life, Character Building, by 
E. P. Jackson, Character, by S. Smiles, and Corner-Stones of 
Character, by Kate Gannett Wells. 

The importance to refinement of character of an early ac- 
quaintance with the best literature is well emphasized by Mary 
E. Burt in her Literary Landmarks and in the Atlantic Monthly 
for May, 1891 ; see also C. D. Warner's article in the same 
periodical for June, 1890, and " Literature in School," by H. E. 
Scudder, in the Riverside Literature Series. 

"He spoke, and words more soft than rain 
Brought the Age of Gold again : 
His action won such reverence sweet, 
As hid all measure of the feat.' 5 



CHAPTER XIV. 
MORAL PROGRESS. 

The first place where we learn about the moral laws 
is, of course, the home into which we are born. The 
family is the earliest and the latest school of morals. 
If we observe how children advance naturally in know- 
ledge and practice of the right, we shall find the broad 
lines on which the moral progress of the world at large 
has taken place. For, as the philosophy of evolution 
teaches us, the development of entire humanity is figured 
and summarized in the growth of each child. 

When the child has learned to obey father and 
mother, and when it will speak the truth to them con- 
stantly, it may still conduct itself immorally or immor- 
ally toward persons outside the home bounds. Chil- 
dren not rarely tell an untruth to a mere acquaintance 
or a stranger without any sense of wrong-doing, while 
they would think it very wrong to tell a lie to father or 
mother or brother or sister. This will not be so strange 
to us when we reflect that they have not yet learned to 
know any larger world than the home, that their ideas 
of right and wrong naturally take a very concrete form 
and are concerned with a very few persons. Eight is, 
for them, to " mind " father's and mother's commands, 
to do as they are told to do, and to tell their parents 
the truth. The general and abstract idea of obedience 
to the Moral Law applying to all mankind comes 
later and gradually with experience and enlarging power 
of thought. 

All the mistakes and imperfections of the morals of 
children can be paralleled from the practice of savages 



138 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

or barbarians now living, or from the records of early, 
historic mankind. The savage obeys his chief and 
complies very carefully with the customs of his tribe ; 
he tells the truth, in a rough way, to his fellow-tribes- 
men, and in general, he deals with them according to 
his rude notions of justice. But he has no notion that 
men of another tribe have any rights that he is bound 
to respect. He can deceive, cheat, maltreat, or kill 
them, in peace or in war, and his conscience will never 
trouble him. He has a tribal conscience, just as the 
child has a home conscience. So in later times, and 
down even to our own day, persons of one nation or 
race hate those of another or of all others, and con- 
sider themselves practically free from this or that 
obligation of truth or justice toward them. Such are 
the actual relations, too often, of the white man and the 
man with a black or a yellow skin ; of the Englishman 
and the Irishman ; of the French and the Germans. 
But as respects the extent to which the moral law 
applies, it is very plain that we do not reach a logical 
limit until we have included the whole human race. 
Morality is conterminous, i. e., has the same bounds 
and limits, with humanity, with all mankind. There, 
are special duties and great differences in the degree 
of obligation according as we live in closer or looser 
relations with other human beings, from the nearness, 
constancy, and immediateness of home life up to our 
most general relations to the great mass of men whom 
we never even see. But whosoever the man may be, 
American, Negro, or Chinaman, with whom we have 
dealings at any time or in any place, the universal 
moral law dictates that he shall be treated justly. Nihil 
liumani alienum a me puto, says a character in a play of 
the Boman writer, Terence, u I esteem nothing human 
foreign to me." So morality might speak if we were 
to personify it. Every relation of man to men, without 
regard to country or complexion or race or age, is sub- 



MORAL PROGRESS. 139 

ject to moral judgment. Ethics is a science of a part 
of universal human nature : and morality is an art to be 
practised by us toward every other human being. 

Progress in general morals is going on, and must 
go on, until all mankind recognize that they live under 
one great moral law. This progress is marked by the 
discussion and agitation of the rights of this or that 
class of human beings that is constantly going on. 
What are the rights of women ? What are the rights 
of children ? What are the rights of the N egro or of 
the Chinaman in this country ? This word " rights " 
very often means " political privileges/' such as the 
right to vote, with which we are not concerned in this 
elementary book. But the moral rights of women and 
children, of negroes and Chinamen, for example, are 
much more important to them than these political privi- 
leges. Moral progress consists, in one aspect, in the 
increasing recognition, theoretically and practically, of 
the fact that there is the same measure of right and 
duty for every human being. 

Each person has a right to himself, to his own per- 
son : so slavery, the ownership of one man by another, 
as if he were a piece of property like a dog or a horse, 
is wrong, whether the slave be white or black in color. 
Women have peculiar duties as wives and mothers ; but 
as human beings in a civilized state they have the same 
general rights as men to education and property and 
labor. Children are morally bound to obey their par- 
ents and other superiors in authority ; but parents are 
bound, as well, to respect the nature of the child and to 
give him an education to fit him for mature life. So 
there are the rights of workmen and servants, as well 
as their duties, which are to be borne in mind by mas- 
ters and employers. As a rule, it is a bad sign for any 
person, man or woman, to be talking very much 
about rights ; commonly, he would have fully enough 
to do in attending to his duties. We can never be 



140 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

too well aware that each right has a corresponding duty 
in our relations with every other human being. So 
much, then, for the extension of the ideas of right and 
duty to all mankind. 

We can make progress, as well, in the thoroughness 
with which we conceive and apply the idea of our duty 
to the persons with whom we have the most to do. In 
other words, our morality may be intensive as well as 
extensive. As we come to make no exceptions in the 
matter of persons, and thus include all other human 
beings in the range of duty ; so we also make progress 
morally by deepening and intensifying the moral life, 
— thought, feeling, word, and act. Some persons seem 
to think or to care very little about right and duty ; 
they do not pay attention to their own ways and habits 
to see if these may be improved morally, so as to be 
juster or kinder. Their life may not be vicious ; and, 
if they are naturally amiable and cheerful, it may have 
much in it to commend. But thoughtlessness about one's 
own conduct can never properly be praised. The art of 
human life together is the greatest of all arts, and it 
can never be learned too thoroughly. We can make 
the most and the surest progress in it by " giving heed " 
to it. 

We are not to become morbid and think overmuch 
about ourselves : we should look out, not in ; up, not 
down : forward, not back ; and be ready to lend a 
hand. But observation of the moral life in others, 
who excel in truth and goodness, should be frequent, 
that we may learn of them to be and to do better. We 
should not be satisfied with a low standard of right, 
content to do as most others are doing in our neighbor- 
hood, or town, in our political party, or our section of 
the country. To do a thing because others do it is not 
a sufficient reason. We are bound to consider if it is 
right, according to our highest ,and most correct ideas 
of right ; if it is not right we are bound, in reason and 



MORAL PBOGRESS. 141 

honor, not to do it. No moral progress would be possi- 
ble if some one did not set the example of following 
his conscience rather than complying with a bad habit 
which many persons are practising. The strictly con- 
scientious and honorable people are usually in the 
minority ; but we should look to them, not to the ma- 
jority, to discover the whole extent of our duty. If 
the truly honorable of the earth are wise, their practice 
in a particular field must in time widen and widen, 
until it has become general. 

A very important part of our duty is to enlighten our 
minds by thought and discussion and reasoning on 
moral matters. We easily get into the rut of personal 
routine and class prejudice, and we often need to 
have a free play of fresh thought and feeling over the 
surface of our living. It is a good practice, in this re- 
spect, occasionally to go away for a time, from our work 
and our homes, even from those who are dearest to us. 
Eeturning, we find ourselves stronger and more inter- 
ested in our work, and more appreciative of the beauty 
and love at home. It is good, too, every day to read 
and consider some inspiring word about conduct by one 
of the many great teachers who can help us to live 
in the spirit. Like Goethe, we can refresh ourselves 
and lift up the whole level of the day with five minutes 
spent over a poem or a picture. Thus we learn, little 
by little, what magnanimity is, and, however slowly, 
come to live nobly. Upon our actual practice a stream 
of earnest thought should play ; and strength to do the 
highest right will come by exercise of the power we 
have, as we understand better and feel more deeply the 
full meaning of the whole moral law. So feeling, we 
rejoice to repeat the magnificent eulogy of the " Stern 
Lawgiver " in the " Ode to Duty " : — 

" Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, 
And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong." 



142 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

With Wordsworth we join in the petition : — 

" To humbler functions, awful Power ! 
I call thee : I myself commend 
Unto thy guidance from this hour ; 
Oh, let my weakness have an end ! 
Give unto me, made lowly wise, 
The spirit of self-sacrifice ; 
The confidence of reason give ; 
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live ! " 



NOTES. 



The evolution of morals has been the theme of numerous writ- 
ers of the present day, who have industriously collected a great 
amount of information concerning the conduct of mankind in 
all times and countries. But the difficulties to ethical theory 
presented by the wide variations of conduct among men have long 
been a familiar topic with writers on ethics. See for an exam- 
ple of a recent treatment of the subject, in Paul Janet's Theory 
of Morals, the chapter on the universality of moral principles 
and moral progress. 

" The world advances, and in time outgrows 
The laws that in our fathers' days were best ; 
And doubtless after us, some purer scheme 
Will be shaped out by wiser men than we, 
Made wiser by the steady growth of truth." 

Lowell. 

Civilization grows largely in proportion to the willingness and 
ability of men to cooperate ; and cooperation demands great 
moral qualities which we cannot begin too soon to cultivate. 

" All are needed by each one : 
Nothing is fair or good alone." 

" The enthusiasm of humanity " is the name happily given by 
Professor J. R. Seeley to the highest type of desire to work for 
others. Mr. Leslie Stephen has worked out the conception of 
society as a moral organism in his Science of Ethics ; the idea 
of " social tissue " is fully developed by him. He concludes, 
however, " But it is happy for the world that moral progress 
has not to wait till an unimpeachable system of ethics has been 



MORAL PROGRESS. 143 

elaborated." Progressive Morality, by T. Fowler, and Moral 
Order and Progress, by S. Alexander, contain able discussions of 
the advance of morality. 

The moral progress of most importance to each one of us is 
indicated in Wordsworth's " Happy Warrior " : — 

" Who not content that former worth stand fast, 
Looks forward, persevering to the last, 
From well to better, daily self-surpast ; " 

in Dr. Holmes's " Chambered Nautilus," and in D. A. Wasson's 
"Ideals." 



CHAPTER XV. 
LIFE ACCORDING TO THE GOLDEN RULE. 

Every art has its ideal, the standard of perfection, 
toward which the efforts of all who practise it are more 
or less consciously directed. In human conduct, the 
greatest of all arts for the mass of mankind, this ideal 
would be, theoretically, the realization in one life of all 
the virtues that we can name. But they are so many, 
and human beings have such different natural disposi- 
tions, temperaments, and talents that, practically, we 
do not expect any person, even the best, to be " a model 
of all the virtues : " such a phrase is ironical on the 
face of it. But there is one rule for conduct, observ- 
ance of which is universally allowed to be a mark of 
every thoroughly good person. It is the precept known 
to us all as the Golden Eule : Do unto others as you 
would that they should do unto you. This is so 
extremely important a rule of conduct to bear in mind 
constantly and to obey every hour, that we shall do 
well to consider it carefully. 

The beginning of morality, we have seen, is obedi- 
ence to the law of life together, and this means self- 
control, the willingness to do our part, — no less, — 
and to take our share, — no more. But the greatest 
foe of the good life is the intense and irrational impulse 
almost every person has to assert himself, even to the 
loss or injury of others, to take more than his due share 
of the good things, and less than his share of the work, 
the hardships and the sufferings of human life. The 
extreme point of this selfishness is murder and war, in 
which one takes away from others even life itself, the 



LIFE ACCORDING TO THE GOLDEN RULE. 145 

prime condition of every human good. If we briefly 
consider the history of the world down to modern 
times, we shall agree with Mr. John Fiske : " There 
can be little doubt that in respect to justice and kind- 
ness the advance of civilized man has been less marked 
than in respect of quick-wittedness. Now, this is be- 
cause the advancement of civilized man has been largely 
effected through fighting." The world is becoming 
more peaceful, we trust, and will advance hereafter 
more through peace than through war. But to check 
the extreme selfishness and passion which show them- 
selves in violence between persons, and in war between 
nations, to make peace — the condition of most of the 
virtues — between individuals and between countries 
possible and actual, some universal maxim of con- 
duct would seem to be desirable. This, obviously, 
should refer not so much to any special action, as kill- 
ing or stealing, as to the general disposition out of 
which all our acts proceed. Such a rule, applying to 
so widespread an evil as selfishness, should inculcate 
a spirit fatal to greed and violence and cunning. To 
obtain general acceptance it should be plain, direct, and 
searching. It should spring out of the actual experi- 
ence of mankind in all times and countries, and justify 
itself at once to rational beings. 

Such a rule has been hit upon, as a matter of fact, all 
over the world, we may say, in every country where 
men have risen from the condition of savages. It is a 
simple deduction from the elementary notion of justice. 
If you are acting in a certain manner toward another 
person, is it right that he should treat you in the same 
spirit ? If you say that it would not be right, why 
would it not be right ? Is your own conduct toward 
him right ? Of course, we soon realize, when we have 
begun to reason about the matter, how difficult, if not 
actually impossible, it is for us "to see ourselves as 
others see us," and to judge our own acts, words, looks, 



146 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

feelings, and thoughts, just as others do. In fact, a 
perfectly just judgment would have to take into account 
our thoughts and feelings as we ourselves alone can 
know them, as well as the expressions and words others 
see and hear. 

Becognizmg this common difficulty of passing right 
judgment on others and on ourselves, the immeasurable 
experience of mankind has yet shown that the spirit 
in which we act is the main matter. If we have 
acted, if others have acted, in a spirit of sympathy ; if 
in the conduct of each there is an effort to imagine how 
his action would appear to himself if he were the other 
person, and to shape his conduct so as to approve it to 
himself, standing in the other man's place, — then we 
have gotten over the main evil in our conduct, we have 
risen, to a degree, out of self, and judged and acted im- 
partially. Thus doing, we are at least acting according 
to a rule, not according to a blind and foolish determi- 
nation to have our own way and get all we can, every- 
where and always. The result, shortly stated, of mil- 
lions upon millions of special experiences of men in 
social life is that the Golden Eule is the best attainable 
working rule of life : Put yourself in his place ; do 
as you would be done by. This means : Try to see 
things as they are, not simply as they first appear to 
yourself, for you may be, you must be, hindered from 
seeing them completely by your personal interests or 
limitations. It means : Try, as far as you may, to see 
your own conduct from the outside, as well as from the 
inside. 

This is the method of science. In every other di- 
rection we endeavor to see as all see, to know as all 
know, to find what is fact to everybody and what must 
be lata for all, ourselves as well as others. Our con- 
duct will be rational, and so right, when we conform it 
to the universal laws of morals. Practically, the easi- 
est way for us so to conform it is to work according to 



LIFE ACCORDING TO THE GOLDEN RULE. 147 

this Golden Rule. The act that you are about to do, 
would you like to have it done to yourself ? The words 
that are on your tongue to speak, would you like to 
have them spoken to yourself ? These are very search- 
ing questions ! Beyond a doubt, if we paused to put 
them to ourselves and acted in accordance with the 
negative answer which we should often give, the world 
would be very much happier, very much better than it 
is. For it is one of the simplest facts of human nature 
that men naturally do as they are done by : wrong 
breeds wrong, and injuries are returned with interest, 
and so multiplied indefinitely. But if we are treated 
justly by others, we at least incline to treat them justly. 
Kindness, truthfulness, all the virtues, propagate them- 
selves in this way. 

That men, then, should do rightly to others and be 
treated rightly in return, it is chiefly necessary that 
they should bear these others in mind and act with 
some view to their welfare. The most direct way to 
this end is to imagine ourselves in others' places, and 
then act accordingly. So all the greatest teachers of 
morals the world has seen are unanimous in laying 
down the Golden Rule in one form or another. Let 
us hear what some of them say. The Buddhist Dliam- 
mapada, or Path to Virtue, declares : In all this world 
evil is overcome only with good. The Jewish Book 
of Leviticus says : Thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
thyself. Hillel, the famous rabbi, commanded : " What 
thou hatest thyself, that do not thou to another : that is 
the whole of the law." Confucius, the great moral 
teacher of China, thus expanded the rule : " That which 
you hate in superiors, do not practise in your conduct 
toward inferiors ; that which you dislike in inferiors, 
do not practise toward superiors ; that which you hate 
in those before you. do not exhibit to those behind you ; 
that which you hate in those behind you, do not mani- 
fest to those before you ; that which you hate in those 



148 THE LAWS OF DAILY CONDUCT. 

on your right do not manifest to those on your left ; 
that which you hate in those on your left, do not mani- 
fest to those on your right. This is the doctrine of 
measuring others by ourselves." Briefer is the an- 
swer which Confucius gave to one who asked him, " Is 
there one word which may serve as a rule of practice 
for all one's life ? " " Is not Reciprocity such a word ? " 
he replied ; " what you wish done to yourself, do to 
others." To the same effect spoke Isocrates the Greek 
orator, and Thales the Greek philosopher. So, in the 
most emphatic way, Jesus of Nazareth commanded: 
All things, therefore, whatsoever ye would that 
men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto 
thern. 

The Golden Eule must not be understood as taking 
the place of the whole moral code. It inculcates the 
spirit in which we should act. Justice and truth and 
kindness, — these are the virtues we wish men to show 
to ourselves : they are the very virtues,, then, that we 
should exhibit to them. The Golden Eule cannot in- 
form us precisely what is just, or true, or kind, in a 
particular instance ; but it does remind us to act accord- 
ing to the knowledge we have of the just and the true, 
in a kindly manner. Living in obedience to this Eule, 
we should cultivate in ourselves the intellectual power 
of imagination and the capacity of sympathy. " The 
better we can imagine objects and relations not present 
to sense, the more readily we can sympathize with other 
people. Half the cruelty in the world is the direct re- 
sult of stupid incapacity to put one's self in the other 
man's place." 

No one has a right to ask chat we set aside justice in 
his favor, or that we shall tell lies to shield him from 
suffering or punishment. But the Golden Eule de- 
mands that justice be done in a spirit of kindness, and 
that the truth be spoken in love. We have only to put 
it into practice to convince ourselves how excellent a 



LIFE ACCORDING TO THE GOLDEN RULE. 149 

rule it is. At home, did parents and children, husband 
and wife, brother and sister, mistress and maid, en- 
deavor to appreciate each other's duties, difficulties, 
burdens, and trials, and act in real sympathy ; did they 
enter into each other's feelings and thoughts, to help, 
to cheer, to bless and love : what a right, true, and 
happy home that would be ! If in the school-room the 
teacher is anxious to help the scholars, and the scholars 
to help the teacher, how that school would prosper in 
the giving and the getting of knowledge ! In the rela- 
tions of employer and employee, of buyer and seller, in 
our common social intercourse, in our use of power and 
property, of knowledge and talent and skill, in every 
place and in every time of human " life together/' we 
have only to do as we would be done by, to realize the 
wisdom of those who gave the rule and the happiness 
of those who have obeyed it. 

When we do wrong to others as we think they have 
done to us, considering ourselves most of all, we live 
under an iron law of selfishness. When we only refrain 
from doing what we should not wish to have done to 
ourselves, this may be called living under a silver rule. 
But the one rule of conduct which deserves to be called 
Golden says, Whatsoever ye would that men should 
do unto you, even so do ye unto them ! 



CHARACTER BUILDING 

A MASTER'S TALKS WITH HIS PUPILS 
By EDWARD P. JACKSON, A. M. 



TO 

M$ Matter anb hotter 

WHOSE FAITHFUL TEACHINGS 

AND WHOSE 

LIVES OF SELF-SACRIFICE IN THE CAUSE OF HUMAN WELFARE 

INSPIRED WHATEVER IS WORTHIEST IN THESE PAGES 

THEY ARE 

AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY 

DEDICATED 



PREFACE. 



The American Secular Union, a national association 
having for its object the complete separation of Church 
and State, but in no way committed to any system of 
religious belief or disbelief, in the fall of 1889 offered 
a prize of one thousand dollars "for the best essay, 
treatise, or manual adapted to aid and assist teachers in 
our free public schools and in the Girard College for 
Orphans, and other public and charitable institutions 
professing to be un sectarian, to thoroughly instruct 
children and youth in the purest principles of morality 
without inculcating religious doctrine." 

The members of the committee chosen to examine 
the numerous MSS. submitted were : Eichard B. West- 
brook, D. D., LL. B., President of the Union, Philadel- 
phia ; Felix Adler, Ph. D., of the Society for Ethical 
Culture, New York ; Prof. D. G. Brinton, M. D., of the 
University of Pennsylvania ; Prof. Prances E. White, 
M. D., of the Woman's Medical College ; and Miss Ida 
C. Craddock, Secretary of the Union. As, in the opin- 
ion of a majority of the committee, no one of the 
MSS. fully met all the requirements, the prize was 
equally divided between the two adjudged to be the 
best offered, entitled respectively, " The Laws of Daily 
Conduct," by Nicholas Paine Gilman, editor of the 
"Literary World" of Boston, and author of "'Profit 
Sharing between Employer and Employee ; " and " Char- 
acter Building." 



VI PREFACE. 

Although the two books were written with no refer- 
ence to each other, they seem to be, both in manner and 
matter, each the complement of the other. The defi- 
ciencies of each are, in great measure, supplied by the 
other. While " The Laws of Daily Conduct " is, in the 
main, synthetic and general in its treatment, the present 
work is more analytic and specific. The two are, there- 
fore, published in a single volume, as well as separately, 
at the earnest request of the Union, and the authors 
hope that the joint book will be preferred by purchasers. 
Much of the matter in the introduction to " The Laws 
of Daily Conduct " is equally pertinent to " Character 
Building." 

The avoidance of sectarianism was not a difficulty, 
but a relief. Although both writers wish to be known 
as friends of religion, they agree in the conviction that 
the public school, which belongs equally to representa- 
tives of all sects and to those of no sect, is not the place 
for special religious or . theological instruction. There 
is enough in w T hat is known as morals, without admix- 
ture of a distinctive religious creed, enough that the 
good, the pure, the noble, the patriotic, the philanthro- 
pic of all creeds can agree upon, to fill not one little 
book like this, but a library. The difficulty is, not to ' 
find material, but to select wisely from the abundance 
at hand. 

What use to make of the following pages each teacher 
must decide for himself. They may serve merely as 
hints as to methods, or they may supply subjects and 
their treatment, to be presented in such other language 
as shall seem best adapted to different classes of hearers. 
Should the teacher or parent prefer to read them in 
their original form, the time required for each of the 
Talks will be found not to vary materially from that 
prescribed by " Dr. Dix," ten minutes, at most fifteen, 
of one day in each week of the school year. 

E. P. J. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface. 

Prologue 1 

I. Sincerity 3 

II. What is Right ? 8 

III. The Sense of Duty 14 

IV. "Credit," and other "Rewards of Merit" . 19 
V. Good Boys and " Fun " 24 

VI. Virtue is Strength : Vice is Weakness . . 28 

VII. More about Good Boys and ''Fun" . . 33 

VIII. Cleverness and Courage 38 

IX. The Battle 43 

X. Wars and Rumors of Wars .... 47 

XI. When the Good Boy will Fight ... 52 

XII. When the Good Boy will not Fight . . 58 

XIII. " Goody-Goody " and Good .... 64 

XIV. The Knight " sans Peur et sans Reproche" 69 
XV. The Attractiveness of Vice ... 75 

XVI. Creeping, Walking, and Flying ... 80 

XVII. The Doctor is Fairly Caught ... 84 

XVIII. The Chains of Habit 90 

XIX. The Alcohol Habit 96 

XX. Beneficent Lions and Tigers .... 100 

XXI. Truth and Truthfulness .... 106 

XXII. Truth and Truthfulness (continued) . .113 

XXIII. Extravagance in Language . . . . 118 

XXIV. Snakes in the Grass 124 

XXV. Great is Truth, and it will prevail . . 129 

XXVI. Honesty 136 

XXVII. Honesty (continued) 141 

XXVIII. A Black List 146 



vni CONTENTS. 

XXIX. Honor 154 

XXX. " When the Cat's away the Mice will play" 160 

XXXI Nagging 164 

XXXII. Industry, Wealth, Happiness .... 171 

XXXIII. Industry, Wealth, Happiness (continued) 176 

XXXIV. Vocation, Vacation, and Avocation . . 182 
XXXV. Cruelty to Animals 188 

XXXVI. Charity 195 

XXXVII. With Hand and Heart 199 

XXXVIII. Politeness 205 

XXXIX. Profanity and Obscenity . . . . 211 

XL. What has Algebra to do with Virtue ? . 218 
XLI. Home and Country: The Good Son and the 

Good Citizen 224 



CHARACTER BUILDING. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 

John Dix, Ph. D., Principal of the Freetown Academy. 
His Pupils. 

PROLOGUE. 

" A time to keep silence, and a time to speak." 

Dr. Dix [concluding a moral lecture]. Well, Jenkins, 
what do yon wish to say ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins [with a sly wink at his classmates], 
I beg pardon, bnt are we going to recite onr Caesar les- 
son to-day ? 

Dr. Dix [glancing uneasily at the clock]. Is it pos- 
sible ! Really, I had no idea it was so late. I was so 
engrossed in my subject that I was altogether uncon- 
scious of the flight of time. No, Jenkins, I regret that 
we must give up our Caesar lesson for to-day. Jenkins 
should not have waited until it was too late before call- 
ing my attention. Ah, ha ! he knew what he was about, 
did he [laughing] ? Well, well, you need n't look so 
delighted. We '11 take a double lesson next time, and 
give our whole attention to it. I hope, however, that 
the time to-day has not been altogether lost ; and yet, 
as I said, I regret that our Caesar lesson must be post- 
poned. To be sure, the proper discussion of a great 
moral principle is more important than a lesson in 
Caesar : but we are told that there is a time for every- 



2 CHARACTER LUILDING. 

thing ; and, in strict justice, we have no right to give the 
time that belongs to Caesar to anything else, or to any- 
body else, however worthy. Well, what is it, Watson ? 

Archibald Watson. " Render unto Caesar the things 
that are Caesar's." \_Laughter.~\ 

Dr. Dix. " And " — Why don't you finish ? 

Archibald Watson. " And unto God the things that 
are God's." 

Dr. Dix. Well put, my lad, well put. An excellent 
application of a famous epigram. The past hour justly 
belonged to the author of the " Commentaries," and we 
have given it to Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. 

It is nearly time for the bell, but I will mention to 
you a plan which I have been thinking of, and which I 
shall probably adopt. There are many things I wish 
to say to you not directly connected with your lessons. 
To avoid in future the mistake I have made to-day, 
it is my intention to set apart ten or fifteen minutes 
every Wednesday morning, not for set lessons, but for 
miscellaneous Talks. The time thus appropriated will 
be taken equitably from the various branches of study, 
and no one of them need to suffer perceptibly. But 
whether they suffer or not, I shall feel that I am doing 
no wrong ; and certainly no one can doubt the impor- 
tance of questions of conduct and motive in a school 
which professes to form character as well as to train 
the intellect. 

If I should adopt this plan, I cordially invite you all to 
join freely with me in the discussions, to suggest topics, 
to ask questions, and to feel no hesitation whatever in ex- 
pressing dissent from anything that maybe said, — hon- 
est dissent I mean, of course. I hope no one will ever 
take part in a discussion simply to carry his point and 
win a victory, or merely to make a display of his skill 
at logical fencing. The one great object I wish every 
one to have before him is to discover and point out the 
truth. ___, \Bell.~\ 



SINCERITY. 

Dr. Dix. Well, scholars, after further consideration 
and conference with certain ladies and gentlemen whose 
judgment I value very highly, I have decided to adopt 
the plan which I mentioned last week. 

Until further notice, then, the first ten minutes of 
each Wednesday will be devoted to what I hope will 
prove not only useful but interesting conversations. I 
say conversations, for I want you to do your share of 
the talking. As, however, I have a much greater store 
of experience to draw from than any of you, I expect 
that my share will be much larger than yours ; but I 
shall always take good care to give you a full opportu- 
nity to say all you feel inclined to say. You have only 
to indicate your wish in the usual way, and it shall be 
granted. 

I desire that these Wednesday Morning Talks of ours 
shall have a distinct bearing upon the formation of 
character, that they shall be such as shall tend to make 
you loyal citizens, and good, noble men and women. 

And first, let me say, the easiest and cheapest part of 
morality is the discussion of it. Of all things in exist- 
ence, words — if they are mere words — are the cheap- 
est. Nothing is easier for some men, who can do little 
else, than to talk; and of all subjects under the sun 
there are none upon which more empty words are ut- 
tered than upon questions of morality. As you have 
learned in your study of English Literature, some of the 
most exalted sentiments that have ever been expressed 
in our language have been uttered by men of essentially 
ignoble lives. 



4 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

The first condition, then, that I shall impose upon 
you as well as upon myself in these discussions is en- 
tire sincerity. 

Louisa Thompson. Do you mean that we are not to 
speak of good things that we do not do ourselves ? 

Dr. Dix [smiling]. I fear that such a restriction 
would close many eloquent lips. 

Louisa Thompson. And are all those eloquent peo- 
ple hypocrites ? 

Dr. Dix [with emphasis']. By no means, Miss 
Thompson. But the noblest human character is full of 
imperfections. Before any good act is performed, be- 
fore any noble quality is attained, it must be thought 
of and aspired to. The runner in a race must fix his 
thoughts intently on the goal towards which he is 
striving. By all means let our thoughts and words be 
in advance of our actual attainments. That is the very 
first requisite to progress, and the farther in advance 
they are the better. What I meant was, that we should 
not profess admiration of virtue or detestation of vice 
which we do not actually feel, — that, in short, we 
should not preach what we do not at least sincerely 
desire to practice, whether in our weakness we are able 
actually to practice it or not. I think we shall not find 
this too severe a restriction. I take it for granted that 
there is no one here who has not a genuine desire, more 
or less alive and awake, to become better, stronger, 
nobler, more admirable than he is. If this desire is 
encouraged — and there is no better way to encourage 
it than to think and talk about it — it will naturally 
grow stronger and stronger. As the desire strengthens, 
so will the power to gratify it. There is no other sin- 
cere desire of the human heart so absolutely sure to be 
realized as this. 

Do not let our talks end with mere talk. Do not let 
any of us discuss the beauty and nobility of truth- 
fulness, for instance, and straightway resume the prac- 



SINCERITY. 5 

tice of the petty deceptions so common in the school- 
room, as well as elsewhere. Let ns not sound the 
praises of industry, cheerfulness, forbearance, gener- 
osity, and immediately proceed to the indulgence of 
idleness, ill-temper, impatience, and selfishness. 

Susan Perkins. What is a hypocrite, Dr. Dix ? 

Dr. Dix. Let us hear your own definition first, Miss 
Perkins. 

Susan Perkins. Why, if we should do what you 
have just asked us not to do, we should be hypocrites, 
should we not ? 

Dr. Dix. Not necessarily. No, not even probably. 
A hypocrite is one who attempts to deceive others in 
regard to his true character, especially one who pre- 
tends to virtue which he does not possess. I should 
not think of accusing any of you of such contemptible 
meanness, even if you should do what I have just 
asked you not to do. I should simply think that your 
sentiments, though strong enough to be expressed in 
words, were neither strong nor deep enough for the 
louder speaking of action. They would be like certain 
plants which put forth very showy blossoms, but which 
have not vitality enough to bear fruit. 

ISTo ; far be it from me to suspect any of you of that 
degree of insincerity which amounts to h} T pocrisy, a 
thing so utterly mean as to be despised alike by the 
good and the bad. But if you give occasion, I shall, 
of course, recognize in you that unconscious sort of in- 
sincerity which makes us satisfied with mere words 
and fleeting emotions instead of action, — with im- 
pulse instead of steady, persistent purpose, — with the 
shadow instead of the substance, — the blossom instead 
of the fruit. 

As I said a little while ago, there is nothing cheaper 
than words. But even those whose words are held the 
cheapest are not always consciously insincere. Their 
emotions and sentiments may be real and vivid while 



6 CHAM ACT EH BUILDING. 

they last, though they may scarcely outlast the noisy 
breath that utters them. 

Whether justly or unjustly, it is the common disposi- 
tion of mankind to place a low estimate upon the ear- 
nestness of great talkers, and more particularly upon 
their will and power to do. There are familiar old pro- 
verbs illustrating this. Let us have some of them. 

Jane Simpson. "Empty vessels make the most 
sound/' 

Charles Fox. " Still waters run deep." 

Lucy Snow. " Shallow brooks babble." 

Dr. Dix. Yes. Proverbs are called the wisdom of 
many and the wit of one. Those you have given are 
among the wisest and the wittiest. There is danger, 
however, that their very wisdom and wit may lead to 
their too wide application. One of the most familiar of 
the proverbs may well serve as a check upon all the 
rest. Can any of you tell me what it is ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. " There is no rule without excep- 
tions. " 

Jonathan Tower. And, "The exception proves the 
rule." 

Dr. Dix. If any of the proverbs needs the check of 
the first of these two, it is certainly the second. There 
is no rule with more exceptions, even in Latin prosody 
or German gender, than that " The exception proves 
the rule." 

It is not true that all or even the most of great talk- 
ers are deficient in earnestness or in the pow r er and will 
to accomplish good in the world. The mission of such 
— I mean really great talkers — is chiefly to talk ; not 
to express what they do not feel, but sentiments and 
emotions which may be even deeper and more fervent 
than their eloquent words, sentiments and emotions 
that live as realities in their hearts, that they w T ill stand 
by to the death, if need be. 

Few men have wielded a more controlling influence 



SINCEB1TY. 7 

over their fellow-men than Pericles during the first 
years of the Peloponnesian War. Cicero attributes his 
power chiefly to his surpassing skill in oratory. But 
what could his oratory have accomplished if the men of 
Athens had not known that their eloquent chief meant 
every word exactly as he said it ? It was not the words 
that gave power to the man so much as it was the man 
that gave power to the words. ]\Iany an actor on the 
stage has equalled and perhaps surpassed Pericles in 
the tricks of voice, facial expression, and gesture ; hut 
the sublimest triumphs of the stage last only so long 
as the illusion of reality remains. When the pageant 
is over, the consciousness of its unreality returns, and 
lo ! the burning words have lost their power, save as 
they please the memory and the imagination. 

And, again, it is not true that all " still waters run 
deep/' There are shallow, stagnant little pools that lie 
more silent and still than the deepest tides of the Mis- 
sissippi. Silence may be " golden " or it may be leaden. 
It may be the silence of wisdom and self-mastery, or 
it may be the silence of stupidity and cowardice, the 
silence of the owl, or the silence of the sphinx. 

Do not, therefore, be afraid to talk. Only talk at the 
right time and in the right place, and be thoroughly in 
earnest. Mean what you say. Feel yourself what you 
urge upon others, and be sure that your feeling is some- 
thing more than a momentary impulse. Do not mis- 
take a passing breeze for a trade-wind. 



II. 

WHAT IS RIGHT? 

Dr. Dix. I don't wish you to look upon this new 
move of ours as merely the introduction of a new branch 
of study. If that were all I sought, I should simply 
have proposed the addition of ethics to our curriculum. 
I should have selected a suitable text-book, assigned 
lessons to be learned, perhaps, and appointed an hour 
for recitation ; in which case some of you would proba- 
bly have thought more of your " marks " and " percent- 
ages " than of the branch itself, as I fear is true with 
some of you in other cases. 

No ; it is not merely the science, but the art and 
practice of morality that I wish you to acquire. If this 
object is to be accomplished, it must be chiefly through 
your own efforts. Something of the science we may 
learn by talking ; the art, like all other arts, can be 
acquired only by faithful, persevering practice. 

Charles Fox. What does ethics mean, Dr. Dix ? 

Dr. Dix [looking around his audience']. Well, we are 
all waiting for an answer. 

Isabelle Anthony. The science of morality, or moral 
philosophy. 

Dr. Dix. And what is morality ? 

Isabelle Anthony. I should say it was a comprehen- 
sive word, including all our ideas of right and wrong. 

Dr. Dix. That will do very well for the present. I 
might ask what is meant by " right," and what is meant 
by " wrong." That would lead us at once into the very 
heart of the science of ethics. 

Charles Fox. And is n't that what you wish ? 



WHAT IS RIGHT V 9 

Dr. Dix. We can hardly practise an art successfully 
without knowing, either by acquisition or by instinct, 
at least the fundamental principles of the science which 
relates to that art. What I wish to guard against is, 
lest our talks, from which I hope so much, may degen- 
erate into distinctly intellectual exercises. I can imag- 
ine our pursuing the science of ethics precisely as we 
study chemistry or logic, and with very much the same 
result. I do not mean that that result would not in- 
clude moral benefit. I believe it would, just as I be- 
lieve the study of chemistry — ay, even of algebra — is 
morally beneficial (and we shall speak of this more at 
length some other morning). I mean that the moral 
benefit would be secondary to the intellectual benefit, 
which is exactly what I do not wish. 

I have often heard men of a philosophical and argu- 
mentative turn discussing ethical questions for no other 
purpose apparently than to wmile away a leisure hour, 
and to display their logical acumen. I have heard the 
loftiest conceptions of right and duty, in the abstract, 
eloquently set forth by men whose daily lives would 
indicate anything but a lofty conception of their own 
individual duty. 

Of course we must have something of what is known 
as the science of ethics, but not enough of it to allow 
the head to usurp the functions of the heart. We will 
consider that this ten minutes belongs peculiarly to the 
heart, and we will allow the head to act only as an aux- 
iliary. It is enough for him to be king the rest of the 
day, with the heart as only his modest and meek coun- 
sellor. ISTow I am ready to ask you what is meant by 
" right " and "wrong." 

Miss Thompson, what do you think those words mean ? 

Louisa Thompson. Eight is — is — why, it is that 
which is right. \_Laughter.~\ 

Dr. Dix. And wrong is, by the same process of rea- 
soning, that which is wrong, eh ? Well, I don't know 



10 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

but that I ought to be satisfied with your answer. It 
shows, at least, that the words have a clear enough 
meaning in your mind. Eight is right, just as gold 
is gold ; and wrong is wrong, as dross is dross. And 
so, I suppose, the words have a definite meaning in the 
minds of all present. Still, it is possible that they may 
mean different things to different persons. Let us see 
how nearly. we agree. Miss Thompson, will you try 
once more ? What is " right " ? 

Louisa Thompson. Eight is — doing good to others. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. I was going to say that, and then 
I thought you would ask what I meant by " good." So 
I would n't say it. 

Dr. Dix [smiling']. Precisely what I was about to 
ask Miss Thompson, not for the sake of puzzling her 
or you, but for exactly the opposite reason — that we 
might begin with the clearest possible ideas. What is 
" good " ? 

Louisa Thompson. Whatever causes happiness is 
good, is it not ? 

Dr. Dix. Let us see. It is said that the effect of 
certain deadly drugs upon the nervous system is to 
produce a sensation of intense happiness. Are they 
good ? 

Louisa Thompson. No, sir ; but the sensations they 
produce are not true happiness ; besides, they cause 
greater unhappiness afterwards. 

Dr. Dix. Then, suppose we say that nothing is good, 
even though it may cause happiness — or what seems 
to be happiness — if it causes greater misery, or if it 
prevents greater happiness. 

But suppose I do something which causes happiness 
to certain persons and unhappiness, though in a less de- 
gree, to others who are innocent ; is that good ? 

Louisa Thompson. ]ST-no, sir. 

Thomas Dunn. And yet that very thing is often 
done, and called right and good, too. 



WHAT IS RIGHT? 11 

Dr. Dix. When and by whom ? 

Thomas Dunn. By the government, when innocent 
men are obliged to go to war to save their country. 

Dr. Dix \impressively~\. " Dulce et decorum est pro 
patria m^ori." l Men ought and often do count it their 
greatest happiness, as well as glory, to make that sac- 
rifice. 

Archibald Watson. Then why shouldn't everybody 
count it happiness to make sacrifices for others ? 

Dr. Dix. So everybody should, my boy ; but we are 
not speaking now of those who voluntarily make sacri- 
fice, but of those who require it of others. And it 
must be remembered that the same rules cannot be 
applied to a government that are applied to an indi- 
vidual. What would be perfectly right and good in 
the government might be a capital crime in an individ- 
ual. It would not be right for me to seek the happiness 
of some of you at the expense of the suffering of others 
who did not deserve it at my hands, — even though the 
total amount of the happiness I thus caused might over- 
balance the pain. So, though it is safe to say that all 
good is right and all right is good, yet we see that there 
is something involved in both the right and the good 
besides mere happiness. What is it ? 

Julia Taylor. Justice ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes. Justice and happiness may coincide, 
but we do not think of them as inseparably connected. 
Let justice be done is our instinctive feeling, whether 
happiness results or not. " Fiat justitia, ruat coelum." 2 

George Williams. Is it not both right and good 
sometimes to set aside justice ? 

Dr. Dix. ISTo. Justice may be "tempered with 
mercy ; " but it is never right nor good that it should 
be " set aside." Eight demands that the mercy shown 
to some should never involve injustice to others, as, for 

1 It is sweet and glorious to die for one's country. 

2 Let justice be done, though the heavens fall. 



12 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

instance, when a criminal, unrepentant and unref ormed, 
is pardoned and let loose to prey again upon society. 

Well, what besides kindness, mercy, and justice are 
included in right ? 

Susan Perkins. Truth. 

Dr. Dix. Do not our commonest instincts teach us 
that nothing can be right or good that is not true ? A 
lie, even though it may cause no unhappiness to any 
living creature, is and must be forever wrong. Eight, 
rectus, means straight, true. A right angle is a square 
angle. Even in slang a man that does right is called 
" square " and " straight?," while a rascal is sometimes 
called a " crook." Wrong is not straight nor square ; 
it is oblique, crooked. Its very spelling shows what it 
is, — w-r-ong, wrung, wrested from the true and the 
right. The wrong does not go straight on ; it writhes, 
it wriggles. 

But there is one particular word which, with its 
equivalents, expresses the idea of right more exactly, 
perhaps, than any that we have used thus far. What 
is it ? That is right which — 

Thomas Dunn. Ought to be. 

Dr. Dix. That is the word, ought, owed. Eight is 
what is owed by somebody or something to somebody 
or something. Eight is a debt, debitum, something 
owed. And there are equivalents ; what are they ? 

Jane Simpson. Eight is what is due, duty. 

Dr. Dix. Yes. But we must be careful that we do 
not take those words in too narrow a sense. Some men 
seem to consider that they do their full duty to their 
fellow-men when they pay what they call their business 
debts. Are they right ? 

Many Voices. No, sir. 

Dr. Dix. What else do they owe ? 

Louisa Thompson. Kindness. 

Henry Phillips. Charity. 

Jonathan Tower. Help. 



WHAT IS BIGHT? 13 

Lucy Snow. Forbearance. 

Jane Simpson. Friendship. 

Susan Perkins. Forgiveness. 

Dr. Dix. And the influence and example of a noble, 
upright life. These are all debts, as truly as those 
which are entered in their ledgers. 



III. 

THE SENSE OF DUTY. 

Dr. Dix. To do right, as we said last Wednesda 
morning, is simply to do one's duty. Now things al- 
ways do that. Observe, in this last statement I am not 
using the word duty in its strict metaphysical sense, 
which involves the idea of a right voluntary choice be- 
tween alternatives of action. I use it simply in its ety- 
mological sense, that of giving what is owed, what is 
due. As I said, things always do that. 

Thomas Dunn. Do they always ? Does a watch, for 
instance, do its duty when it refuses to go ? 

Dr. Dix. Always. If it is properly made in the 
first place, and is not abused afterwards, it will go until 
it is worn out, and then it is its duty to stop. If it is 
not properly made, and is badly enough abused, it is its 
duty, it is the law of its being, so to speak, not to go. 

Thomas Dunn. May not the same, or at least a simi- 
lar thing, be said of a man ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes and no. A man is like a watch only 
in that he does not do the impossible. He is entirely 
unlike a watch in that he does not necessarily do what 
he can. Yes, Dunn, things always obey the laws of 
their being. They always pay their debts. 

Joseph Cracklin. But they deserve no credit for do- 
ing so — they can't help it. 

Dr. Dix. Who does deserve credit for simply paying 
his debts ? However, we will not consider the credit 
for the present ; we will consider the fact and its re- 
sults, which are precisely the same as if things could 
do wrong if they chose, but always chose to do right. 



THE SENSE OF DUTY. 15 

A part of the lesson we are to learn is the results of 
right-doing and of wrong-doing. If you and your watch- 
maker do your duty to your watch, it will infallibly do 
its duty to you. It will go on, never resting, never 
tiring, never losing a tick, whether the eye of its master 
is on it or not, working as faithfully through the long 
hours of the night as in the daylight. 

In a school reading-book in use when I was a boy, 
there was an ingenious little allegory entitled " The 
Discontented Pendulum," by Jane Taylor. The pendu- 
lum of an old clock, that had been faithfully ticking 
the seconds year after year, was represented as finally 
becoming utterly discouraged by its unintermitting la- 
bors and the prospect of their never ending, and ab- 
ruptly coming to a full stop. After pouring out its 
grief and discouragement to a sympathizing ear, listen- 
ing to a due amount of remonstrance for its ignoble 
neglect of duty and of encouragement to persevere to 
the end, — remembering that it never had but one 
swing to make in a second and that it always had the 
second to make it in, — it was finally persuaded to dry 
its tears and return to its duty. I remember that I 
liked the fable very much ; but, with all my admiration, 
I could not quite forgive the injustice done to the pen- 
dulum in even imagining it capable of unfaithfulness 
of which only a living creature could be guilty. 

No, things are never unfaithful. The stars never de- 
sert their posts for an instant throughout the ages. 
The planets never swerve a hair's breadth from the 
courses marked out for them by nature. Not an atom 
ever refuses to fulfil its duty, and its whole duty, in 
the unending work of the universe. The grand result 
of this unvarying fidelity to duty, this perfect obedience 
to the laws of nature, is perfect harmony throughout 
the physical universe. It is only in the moral universe 
that discord reigns. 

The lower animate creation is no less faithful to duty 



16 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

than the inanimate. No allurements will tempt the 
mother bird to desert her young. The working ant 
never idles away his time. Queens are only mothers in 
the hive and in the nest : neither kings nor queens are 
needed for government, for none of their subjects was 
ever known to violate a law of the realm. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. The grasshopper idles, if the ant 
does n't. 

Archibald Watson. Yes, sir ; and we have the fable 
of lt The Ant and the Grasshopper." 

Dr. Dix. I have often thought that fable even more 
unjust to the grasshopper than Jane Taylor's to the 
pendulum. The grasshopper gets his living through 
the summer, his natural term of life, does he not ? 
Many a Western farmer has learned that to his sorrow. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Yes, sir ; he steals his living. 

Dr Dix. No, I cannot admit that. Human laws of 
property are binding only on men, not on grasshoppers. 
They know only the laws of nature, which recognize no 
monopoly of the green fields ; they have never learned 
to read the warning legend, " No Trespass." 

But let us see what even the grasshopper will do 
when duty calls. When the devastating multitudes 
sweep over the plains, leaving no green shred behind 
them, attempts are sometimes made to check their pro- 
gress by lighting long lines of fire. Then comes the 
vanguard of grasshoppers, overwhelming the opposing 
walls of flame like an extinguishing wave of the ocean. 
There is no hesitation. Hand mora} Like Napoleon's 
platoons at the bridge of Lodi, the countless multitudes 
go unflinchingly to certain death for the sake of the 
vastly greater multitudes behind them. 

That is the way the little voluptuary of the fable 
does his duty. I have compared him to the heroic sol- 
dier, the human type of that perfect fidelity which we 
have seen in the inanimate and in the lower animate 

1 No delay. 



THE SENSE OF DUTY. 17 

creation. The true soldier's one object and ambition is 
to do his duty, no matter what the cost. You have all 
heard the famous story of the burning of the Czar's 
palace at Moscow — how in the general confusion the 
order to relieve the royal sentinels was not issued by 
the proper authority, and how the heroic fellows paced 
back and forth upon the blazing balustrades as if they 
were on parade, until the falling walls buried them 
from sight. 

There was an example of fidelity to duty set before 
the world ! It was an example not only to the soldier 
guarding his sacred trust, but to all men in all stations 
and conditions of life. 

What seem to be little duties are as binding upon us 
as those which may gain for us greater glory and admi- 
ration. The regular army soldier is taught to be as 
faithful in the care of his horse and of his wardrobe as 
in the performance of his graver duties on the battle- 
field. 

Now, can you tell me why the sense of the impera- 
tiveness of duty should be so especially prominent in 
the mind of the soldier ? Why more so than in the 
minds of men in general ? 

Julia Taylor. It is no more so than in the minds of 
other faithful people. 

Dr. Dix. Very true. Heroic fidelity to duty is by no 
means confined to those whose trade is war. There are 
cowards, traitors, and shirks in the army as well as 
elsewhere. From the earliest ages, however, the soldier 
has been a favorite proverb of devotion to duty, and an 
idea so general must have some foundation in truth. 

Isabelle Anthony. One reason is, that bravery is so 
much admired, and cowardice so much despised. 

Dr. Dix. That is doubtless a part of the explana- 
tion. But to be brave is not the soldier's only duty : 
his first and greatest obligation is to obey orders. 

Thomas Dunn. I think the chief reason is, that 



18 CHARACTEU BUILDING. 

there is so much depending on his doing his duty faith- 
fully. If he sleeps on his post, the safety of the whole 
army is endangered ; if he is cowardly in battle, the vic- 
tory is lost ; if he is disobedient to orders, there can be 
no discipline, and without discipline an army is only a 
mob. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; that is the explanation — necessity. 
Fidelity is indispensable to efficiency. An army com- 
posed of untrustworthy and disobedient soldiers would 
be like a watch — if such a thing is conceivable — in 
which the wheels should turn or not as they individu- 
ally chose ; or, to carry out my former comparison, like 
a universe in which the atoms should obey the laws of 
attraction and repulsion or not according to their sov- 
ereign pleasure. Such an army would be, as Dunn says, 
a mob : such a universe would be chaos. 

Now, boys and girls, each one of us is like a soldier 
in an army — with this difference : however we might 
wish to do so, we can neither resign nor desert. We 
must ever remain parts of the great whole. Each of us 
is a little wheel in the great mechanism, and if we do 
not do our share of the turning, or if we turn in the 
wrong direction, we do so much to block the machinery, 
to disturb the general harmony that might prevail. 
Why should any of us feel the sense of imperative duty 
less strongly than the brave, true soldier ? Why 
should man, the apex in the pyramid of being, be less 
obedient to the laws of his existence, less faithful to his 
duty, than the wheels of his watch, than the ant or the 
bee, than the minutest atom that helps to hold the uni- 
verse together and keep it in harmonious motion ? 



IV. 

"CREDIT," AND OTHER "REWARDS OF MERIT." 

Dr. Dlx. During my eulogy on things and the lower 
animals, last week, for always fulfilling the ends for 
which they exist, it was objected that they deserve no 
" credit" for doing so, because they cannot do other- 
wise. Well, as I replied then, who does deserve credit 
for simply doing his duty ? 

Joseph Cracklin. When a man pays a debt, it is put 
to his " credit" on the ledger. 

Dr. Dix [smiling']. That sounds like a very clever 
answer ; but it is only a play upon words. Even things 
deserve credit in that sense of the word. The farmer 
credits a field with the crop that he considers no more 
than his due for the labor and money he has expended 
upon it. When Cracklin made the remark that " things 
deserve no credit," he used the word in an entirely dif- 
ferent sense, that of commendation for positive moral 
virtue. A man who merely pays his debts simply 
does nH do wrong. His act is like thousands of other 
acts, neither positive nor negative so far as their moral 
nature is concerned ; whereas the man who not only 
pays, but gives from benevolent motives, is " credited " 
with an act of positive moral virtue. 

Thomas Dunn. But didn't we decide, a fortnight 
ago, that kindness, charity, generosity were only debts 
that we owe our fellow-men ? 

Dr. Dix [laughing]. We seem to have stumbled 
upon one of those ethical subtleties that I was so anx- 
ious to avoid. It is not so subtle, however, as it seems. 
Words often have a very different force, according as 



20 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

their application is high or low. We say, for instance, 
that this building is stationary. It is so only with ref- 
erence to the earth on which it stands, lleferred to 
the heavens, we know that it is in rapid motion. So 
that which may not be a debt in the business sense, 
may be a most binding debt in the moral sense. The 
payment of such moral debts has positive moral virtue, 
and is entitled to moral credit. Let us consider this 
moral credit, as distinguished from business credit. 

It is a part of the natural and just reward of well- 
doing. The love of the approbation of our fellow-men 
is implanted in us by nature, and is entirely commend- 
able, if properly regulated. There is no motion with- 
out a motor. The steam-engine will not move without 
steam, neither will man act without a motive. He 
labors for food and other necessaries and comforts of 
life. Without reward of some sort he will not act, 
and this is right. As I said, the approval of his fellow- 
men is one of these rewards. But suppose it is the 
only or chief motive for doing good. You have read of 
a class of men who give alms that they maj r be seen of 
men. You know what is said of them : " They have 
their reward." Do you not detect a subtle sarcasm in 
that laconic awarding of the prize of " credit " ? Are 
they really entitled even to the poor reward they re- 
ceive ? If men knew their actual motive, would they 
receive it ? No ; in order that their credit may be 
justly earned, it must be only a secondary motive of 
action. And the same may be said of all other re- 
wards which appeal to our selfish passions and desires. 
You may name some of the motives which impel men 
to do good and shun evil. 

Isabelle Anthony. I think the most general and 
powerful motive is expressed in the old copy-book line, 
" Be virtuous and you will be happy." 

Frank Williams. People are afraid they won't get 
to heaven if they are not good. 



CREDIT, AND OTHER REWARDS OF MERIT. 21 

Dr. Dix. And what do yon think of such motives, 
unmixed with others ? 

Isabelle Anthony. I think they are purely selfish. 

Dr. Dix. Do you think they are entitled to much of 
the credit we are speaking of ?. 

Isabelle Anthony. Xo, sir. 

Dr. Dix. Suppose no such rewards were offered, — 
suppose — if such a thing is conceivable — that virtue 
did not gain the approval of our fellow-men or lead 
to happiness, what do you think the effect would be on 
general human character ? 

Jane Simpson. There wouldn't be much good done. 

Thomas Dunn. I do not think there would be any 
good at all. 

Dr. Dix. So you think all good acts have at bottom 
some selfish motive ? 

Thomas Dunn. It seems to me that it must be so. 

Dr. Dix. Do you think the Good Samaritan was 
selfish ? 

Thomas Dunn. He might have been purely so. He 
couldn't help pitying the man he saw suffering. Pity 
is no more truly an act of the will, I suppose, than sur- 
prise, or fright, or any other sudden emotion. His pity 
caused him a kind of suffering, and he took the most 
direct and effectual way of relieving it. 

Dr. Dix. And so he was entitled to no credit ? 

Thomas Dunn. I don't say that. I only say that 
his good act might have been purely selfish. If my 
head aches, I try to relieve it. I do the same when my 
heart aches. 

Besides, he might have heard of its being " more 
blessed to give than to receive," and he might have been 
business-like enough to do that which would secure to 
himself the greater blessing. 

Julia Taylor \_indignantly~\. I don't believe it pos- 
sible for him to have had any such sordid thoughts. I 
don't believe the most remote thought of himself or of 



22 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

rewards of any kind entered his noble heart. I believe 
his act was one of the purest and most unselfish benev- 
olence. 

Dr. Dix. Miss Taylor's supposition is at least as 
reasonable as yours, Dunn. I had no idea you were such 
a cynic. 

Thomas Dunn. You invited us to express our views 
without restraint. 

Dr. Dix. Certainly. I am not reproaching you for 
expressing your views ; I am only surprised that such 
fully developed cynicism should come from such young 
lips. 

Thomas Dunn. I merely repeated what I have heard 
from older lips. But I only said what might be pos- 
sible. 

Dr. Dix [more graciously^. But what in your heart 
you felt is not probable. That is not the way you 
ordinarily judge your fellow-beings. Only those with- 
out virtue themselves disbelieve in its existence in 
others ; only those without benevolence themselves be- 
lieve others destitute of that virtue. 

Thomas Dunn. But the Good Samaritan was not 
one of my fellow-beings ; he was only an imaginary 
character, after all. 

Dr. Dix. He stands for the good heart of all man- 
kind. In maligning him, you malign your race. Don't 
lose your faith in human nature, Dunn. It would be 
one of the greatest losses you could suffer. There is no 
doubt that selfish motives actuate a great amount of the 
good that is done in the world ; but, thank heaven, not 
all, nor nearly all. The mother thinks only of her be- 
loved child in danger. She thinks no more of herself 
than the planet thinks of itself as it wheels unswerv- 
ingly in its celestial orbit. The hero who clings to the 
lever of his engine as it hurries him on to his death 
thinks only of the hundreds of precious lives entrusted 
to his care. He has no time to think of the glory 



CREDIT, AND OTHER REWARDS OF MERIT. 23 

which his eyes shall never see, or of the fame of which 
his ears shall never hear. Napoleon's soldiers may 
have thought of la gloire, as they marched on to their 
fatal Lodi ; but it was not that alone which led them 
on : there was besides the irresistible impulse to do 
their duty because it was their duty. 



V. 

GOOD BOYS AND "FUN." 

Dr. Dix. The other morning I said that I took it for 
granted that all here feel a sincere desire to improve in 
character. Now, I am a pretty fair reader of counte- 
nances, and I must confess that I noticed what seemed 
to me a hesitating look here and there. I will not ask 
any one to speak for himself ; but I wish some of you 
would express what you suppose may possibly be the 
feeling of others. 

James Murphy. Please, sir, good boys don't amount 
to anything out of school hours. [Laughter. ~\ 

Dr. Dix [graciously]. Thank you, Murphy, for your 
free expression of opinion. I have urged you to express 
your views without restraint, and I am glad that one, 
at least, has shown his willingness to do so. If what 
Murphy says is true, I confess it is a new fact to me. 
Now, will you please be a little more definite. What 
do bad boys " amount to " out of school hours more than 
good boys ? 

James Murphy. Why, sir, good boys are afraid of a 
little fun, and — and — they don't know how to have 
any fun, any way. 

Edivard Williams. They are n't so smart as bad boys. 

Richard Jones. It 's all well enough for girls to be 
good ; but with boys it is different. 

Sally Jones [with jealous indignation]. Girls are just 
as bad and smart as boys are ! [Loud laughter, in which 
the Doctor himself joins."] 

Dr. Dix. Our young friends of the Sixth Class show 
a spirit of competition worthy of a better cause, which, 



GOOD BOYS AND -FUX.' 25 

whether it be so candidly expressed in words or not, 
unfortunately prevails among many of larger growth. 
I trust they have not expressed the actual public senti- 
ment of Room No. 6. At all events, they have furnished 
us with a subject for our Talk this morning. 

" Good boys donH amount to anything out of school 
hours" because "they are afraid of a little fun" 

Now, whether that is a fact to be lamented or not de- 
pends on what you mean by " fun." If you mean mali- 
cious mischief, the inflicting of injury or annoyance upon 
others for the sake of the pleasure it may afford to the 
perpetrators, or if you mean indulgence in immoral or 
injurious pleasures, then I must admit that you are 
perfectly right when you say that good boys and girls 
'are afraid of it. But is such fear a thing to be ashamed 
of ? There are two kinds of fear, that of the coward, 
and that of the hero. The bravest soldier is mortally 
afraid of one thing — disgrace. The noblest soul shrinks 
in terror from dishonor. 

Without this kind of fear the highest kind of cour- 
age cannot exist. The man that boasts that he is not 
afraid of anybody or anything is most likely to be an 
arrant coward at heart. Everybody is, by this time, 
familiar with the story of the New York regiment re- 
cruited from the worst criminals and " toughs," — how 
it was confidently expected that they would show at 
least one virtue, that of desperate courage, and how, 
to everybody's amazement, — no, not everybody's, for 
there were some that already understood the true rela- 
tion between manhood and vice, — they proved as ut- 
terly worthless on the battlefield as in the camp, show- 
ing that the only danger they were not afraid of was 
that of shame and disgrace. One of the most valuable 
lessons our great war taught was, that the best men make 
the best and the bravest soldiers. He that is truest to 
his duty in peace will be the most certain to be true to 
his flag in war. So much for the good boy's fear. 



26 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

" Good boys donH know how to have fun, any way" 

Assuming for the present that the word fun has been 
correctly defined, I think you will all agree with me 
that it would be a most blessed thing for the world if 
all knowledge of it were forever lost. There are some 
kinds of knowledge which are a terrible loss rather than 
a gain. Many and many a youth knows altogether too 
much of certain things, and not enough of others, for 
his own happiness and good. 

There is a kind of " fun " that is anything but funny 
in its results, a kind that brings far more tears than 
laughter. This is the kind that the good boy neither 
knows nor wishes to know how to have. 

" Good boys are not so ' smart ' as bad boys." 

I presume that " smart " is here to be taken in its 
American sense, as meaning clever, able, energetic. If 
so, I confess that the idea expressed is a novel one to 
me. Does it require more cleverness, ability, energy, 
to do wrong than to do right ? Most people find it 
quite the reverse. Which is easier, to give a wrong 
solution of a mathematical problem or the right one ? 
Any one can answer a difficult question wrongly ; only 
the " smart " ones can answer it correctly. It is the 
same in the moral as in the intellectual field; to do 
right requires effort, power ; to do wrong generally re- 
quires neither. 

Joseph Cracklin. I have heard my father say that a 
rascal will work harder to steal a dollar than an honest 
man will to earn ten. 

Dr. Dix. A very wise and true saying it is, too. But 
the effort I am speaking of now is the effort of power, 
cleverness, ability, energy — not the effort of weakness 
and folly. The making of great efforts does not neces- 
sarily indicate power. A fool will work harder to ac- 
complish nothing than a wise man will to build a ship. 
Then, again, some kinds of effort, desperate as they may 
seem, are much easier to make than others. Your rascal 



GOOD BOYS AND ' k FUN." 27 

would find it harder to make up his mind to honestly 
earn one of the honest man's ten dollars than to work 
day and night to steal a hundred. 

Xo, it is not true that evil requires more power than 
good. Men are wicked because it is easier to be wicked 
than it is to be good. Like the lightning, they follow 
the path of least resistance. 

Susan Perkins. " The way of the transgressor/' I 
have always been told, " is hardP 

I>r. Dix. Ah, that comes later. 

Julia Taylor. Don't we often hear it said in praise of 
certain good people, that they find it easier to do right 
than wrong, — that it comes more natural to them ? 

Dr. Dix. I am glad you asked the question, for it 
suggests the most striking and admirable characteristic 
of all kinds of power, moral as well as intellectual and 
physical — the ease with which it accomplishes its re- 
sults. The athlete does without apparent effort what 
might be an impossibility for the ordinary man. The 
genius dashes off in an hour a poem that we common 
mortals could not produce in a lifetime of effort. How 
have these good people you speak of attained their 
power for good ? By long-continued perseverance in the 
paths of virtue. That which you say " comes natural" 
to them is simply the second nature of habit. 

Jane Simpson. Is all virtue only second nature ? 
Are there- not some people who seem to have been 
born good ? 

Dr. Dix. Certainly some people inherit better natures 
than others, just as some inherit more vigorous bodies 
and keener intellects. We are not all favored alike. 
The point I am urging is, that good requires more power 
than evil ; whether inherited or acquired is not now the 
question. This power may be inherited in vastly differ- 
ent degrees by different individuals ; but one great truth 
I want to impress upon you : Every virtuous life that 
has ever been lived has been a life of persistent effort. 



VI. 

VIRTUE IS STRENGTH: VICE IS WEAKNESS. 

Dr. Dix. Every virtuous life that has ever been lived 
has been a life of persistent effort. 

Let no one palliate his own self-indulgence and belit- 
tle another's self-denial by saying, " It is easy for him 
to be good, he could n't be bad if he tried." Vice per 
se is always easier than virtue. The apparent excep- 
tion I have already explained. If there are those of 
such exalted virtue that it seems well-nigh impossible 
for them to go wrong, it is because of their strength. 
Their inability is like that of the athlete who cannot 
act the invalid, the giant who cannot be a pygmy. I 
say again, vice per se is always easier than virtue : self- 
indulgence is always easier than self-denial; to resist 
temptation is always more difficult than to yield ; to ut- 
ter the angry word or strike the angry blow requires 
far less power than to restrain the tongue or withhold 
the hand. 

Joseph Cracklin [pertly, looking about for applause]. 
Some men have found out that there was considerable 
power in one of Sullivan's angry blows. [Laughter, 
more or less restrained.] 

Dr. Dix [with eold displeasure]. We have been 
speaking of " smartness," and we have thus far used the 
w r ord in its colloquial sense. When correctly used, how- 
ever, it has for one of its meanings shallow aggressive- 
ness of speech or manner, with the added notion of im- 
pertinence. I think your attempted witticism, Cracklin, 
and more particularly your manner of making it, was a 
very good illustration of that kind of smartness. It was 



VIRTUE IS STRENGTH: VICE IS WEAKNESS. 29 

shallow, because it betrayed a total failure to compre- 
hend the subject we were discussing; and, in fact, had 
not the slightest bearing upon it. We were speaking 
of a power far greater than that of a puny arm of flesh 
and bone, even that of the notorious bully you named. 
It was impertinent, that is, not pertinent, for the same 
reason. It was aggressive — not in respectfully ex- 
pressing honest dissent, which would have been proper 
and welcome — but in interrupting our discussion for 
the mere sake of displaying your wit. 

Joseph Cracklin. I beg your pardon. 

Dr. Dix. That is " smart" in the colloquial sense, 
Cracklin. It is right, and therefore strong. The other 
was wrong and therefore weak. We will let the one 
offset the other. And now let us return from the di- 
gression. 

Virtue is a constant resistance to force, which tends 
to draw the soul to its ruin ; vice is the simple, passive 
yielding to that force. The universal experience of 
mankind has led to the comparison of virtue to an as- 
cent hard to climb, and of vice to a descent down which 
it is easy to sink. What does Virgil say on this sub- 
ject, Miss Perkins ? 

Susan Perkins. " Facilis descensus Averno ; sed re- 
vocare gradum, — hoc opus, hie labor est." l 

Jonathan Tower. But simply because virtue is a 
climbing and vice a sinking, I don't see how it follows 
that the good are necessarily cleverer or more power- 
ful. I happen to know some clever people who are not 
regarded as very good, and I also know some very good 
people who seem to me rather weak than strong. 

Dr. Dix. You have evidently misunderstood me. 
Perhaps you thought I was speaking of persons, when, 
in reality, I was speaking of actions. 

Jonathan Tower. Pardon me, Dr. Dix, I have sup- 

1 The descent to Avernus is easy ; but to return, — this is the diffi- 
culty, this the task. 



30 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

posed from the beginning that the subject was one of 
persons. I thought the very question we were dis- 
cussing was, whether, as Williams expressed it, " bad 
boys are smarter than good boys." 

Dr. Dix. Not precisely. Virtue and vice is the sub- 
ject we are discussing. I asked at the outset whether 
it requires more power or cleverness to do wrong than 
to do right, and Virgil's famous epigram, quoted just 
before you spoke, treats of actions, not of persons. 

Jonathan Tower. I cannot understand the essential 
difference between speaking of actions and speaking of 
actors. Does not either word imply the other ? 

Dr. Dix. There is a very essential difference, my 
boy, between speaking of an action and speaking of the 
actor. Though, as you say, one implies the other, yet 
I should not necessarily pronounce one good or bad, 
weak or strong, because the other is. We are told that 
one may hate sin, but love the sinner. Wise people 
very often do foolish things, and foolish people, wise 
ones. So, though I may say with perfect truth that all 
evil is weakness and folly, and that all good is strength 
and wisdom, I could not say with truth that all good 
men are in all respects strong and wise, or that all 
bad men are in all respects weak and foolish. History 
is full of famous wicked men, and we all know plenty 
of good souls, strong and wise only in their goodness. 

In general, however, it is fair to presume that among 
the doers of wise things there are more wise men than 
among the doers of foolish things, and vice versa. From 
this presumption alone I should feel perfectly safe in 
declaring that by far the larger share of the world's in- 
tellect and power is arrayed on the side of virtue. And 
when we look abroad we find that universal testimony 
confirms the deduction. The most intelligent and pow- 
erful nations are, on the whole, the most virtuous. 

Charles Fox. I have read that criminals are, as a 
class, men of a very low order of intellect. 



VIRTUE IS STRENGTH. VICE IS WEAKNESS. 31 

Dr. Dlx. A state prison warden of many years' ex- 
perience once told me that the most intellectual prisoner 
that had ever been nnder his charge was distinguished, 
not for any special breadth or depth of mental power, 
but simply for an intense keenness of cunning, which 
operated in the narrow circle of first defrauding his 
victims, and then attempting to outwit his keepers e 
Considered by itself, there is a wonderful amount of in- 
genuity displayed in the invention of instruments and 
other aids to the commission of crime ; but how utterly 
insignificant it appears, both in quantity and quality, 
when compared with that employed for the benefit of 
mankind ! 

Of course, the single instance mentioned by the 
warden would not prove a universal rule ; but it is safe 
to say that there is some fatal deficiency in the intel- 
lectual as well as in the moral make-up of every thor- 
oughly bad man. 

In the conflict between good and evil that is ever in 
progress, it is a most fortunate thing for us all that the 
enormous preponderance of intellect and power is on the 
side of good. It is to this that we owe the practically 
perfect safety with which we go unarmed and unattended 
from ocean to ocean. The bad are everywhere, and fain 
would make us their victims ; but the strong right arm 
and the vigilant eye of justice-loving humanity are ever 
about us, and with so mighty a champion, we look 
upon evil lurking in its dark caves and feel no fear. 

Archibald Watson. Men are robbed and murdered 
sometimes. 

Dr. Dix. Alas, yes. We rarely take up a newspaper 
without seeing accounts of thefts, robberies, and mur- 
derous outrages. It is not that evil is not mighty and 
prevalent, but that good is vastly more mighty and 
vastly more prevalent. So great is the difference that, 
as I said, we have practically no fears for ourselves or 
for our friends. So little, as a rule, do we actually 



32 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

suffer of wrong from our fellow-men, so little do we 
suffer from the combined efforts of all the intellect and 
power of the wicked, that, in order to complain at all, 
we pour out our bitter bewailings upon some petty 
three-penny tax or other that we feel to be unjust ! 
Think of it, scholars ! Think what might be the con- 
dition of the world to-day, if evil were actually more 
clever and strong than good ! What would become of 
our asylums, hospitals, and life-saving stations ; our 
schools, churches, and libraries ? What would become 
of veneration for the aged, of respect and homage to 
woman, and of the almost universal value placed upon 
sacred human life ? In short, what would become of 
the law and order, national and international, which 
protects not only the humblest subject or citizen in his 
rights, but the feeblest state in its independence ? 

Frank Williams. Dr. Dix, when I said that good 
boys were not so smart as bad boys, I was n't talking of 
men, I was talking of boys. 

Dr. Dix. And, pray, what should make a difference ? 
The proverb says, " The boy is father of the man." 
Our other proverb, " There is no rule without excep- 
tions/' applies here, of course ; but you will find it to 
be generally the case that the bad men of to-day are the 
bad boys of twenty years ago, and vice versa. 



VII. 
MORE ABOUT GOOD BOYS AND "FUN." 

Dr. Dix. One of the specifications in the recent 
indictment of the typical good boy was, that he " is 
afraid of a little fun/' and another was that " he does n't 
know how to have fun, any way," 

Defining fun as malicious mischief, or as injurious 
pleasure, we admit, both specifications, with no palliat- 
ing circumstances. 

But if you mean by fun pum, honest enjoyment of 
the pleasures so lavishly given us to enjoy, we deny 
both specifications. 

An indispensable requisite to the highest enjoyment 
is a healthy, natural condition of mind and body. You 
have all heard of the miserable dyspeptic who finds no 
pleasure in the most luxurious table, and of the healthy 
hunger which finds a sweet morsel in a dry crust. The 
principle applies to all kinds and conditions of real 
enjoyment. 

Thomas Dunn. You speak of real enjoyment ; do 
you mean to imply that there is none in what are called 
forbidden pleasures — that wickedness actually renders 
men incapable of real enjoyment ? 

Dr. Dix. I mean that forbidden pleasures always 
entail more pain in the end than pleasure. So, if we 
strike the balance, or get what I may call the algebraic 
sum, it is nothing — less than nothing. I mean that 
every sinful indulgence diminishes the power of enjoy- 
ing even the forbidden pleasure itself, until at last the 
power of enjoyment of the good or the bad may be 
utterly lost. 



34 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

The opium-eater always secures the greatest effect 
from his first dose, because his nerve-system is then in 
its most vigorous condition, and therefore most capable 
of responding to the stimulant. His next dose must be 
larger to produce an equal effect upon his impaired 
susceptibility. 

Thomas Dunn. You are speaking now of an indul- 
gence which we all know to be injurious. Are there 
not immoral indulgences which are not necessarily inju- 
rious, — that is, I mean, to the health ? 

Dr. Dix. Do you know of any such ? 

Thomas Dunn. I know a good many that are called 
immoral, — going to the theatre, for instance, or dancing. 

Dr. Dix. I cannot see how anything that is not inju- 
rious to the mind, body, or heart can be immoral. If 
drinking wine and smoking cigarettes were not injuri- 
ous, they would not be sinful ; if malicious pranks upon 
our fellow-pupils were not injurious, both to them and 
much more so to ourselves, — for health of body is not 
the only or the most important kind of health, — they 
would not be forbidden pleasures. 

Henry Phillips. You just remarked, Dr. Dix, that 
health of body is not the most important kind of 
health. 

Dr. Dix. I did. 

Henry Phillips. Is not health of body the foundation 
of mental and moral health ? and is not the foundation 
of anything the most important part ? 

Dr. Dix. The foundation is a necessary part, but not 
the most important. That which rests on the founda- 
tion, that for the sake of which the foundation exists, is 
the most important. As to whether physical health is 
the foundation of mental and moral health, we say, on 
general principles, that if one member of an organism 
suffers all will suffer. The mind suffers with the body, 
the body with the mind, and, if the law is true, the 
heart must suffer with both. 



MORE ABOUT GOOD BOYS AND "FUN." 35 

Louisa Thompson. It does not seem to me that the 
law can be true. Have not some of the most famous 
minds been found in inferior, weakly, and diseased 
bodies, from old zEsop down to George Eliot ? 

Julia Taylor. And do we not often hear of poor 
suffering invalids who show the best and noblest hearts ? 

Dr. Die. Yes. all that is true. Still such apparent 
exceptions neither prove nor disprove the law. It can 
never be known whether those famous intellects were 
really strengthened or brightened by physical defects 
and sufferings. Disease often stimulates the faculties 
to abnormal but short-lived brilliancy ; but is that real 
strength ? We do not look upon the maniacal strength 
which fever sometimes gives as real strength : cer- 
tainly not as we look upon the substantial and enduring 
strength of health. Some physiologists regard that 
which we call genius as nothing more nor less than a 
form of brain disease. 

If only the physically feeble were intellectually and 
morally strong, the case would be different ; but the 
truth is. that the majority of the world's leaders in 
great moral reforms as well as in intellectual achieve- 
ments have been blessed with bodily health and vigor, 
have had the mens son a in corpare so no. 1 

As to the saintly invalids of whom Miss Taylor spoke, 
we have all known of them ; of all mankind they are 
most deserving of love, tender sympathy, and admira- 
tion : they prove to us that disease may exert a most 
benign influence upon men. that ■•as gold is tried by 
fire, so the heart is tried by pain : n they show us what 
lessons of heroic patience and sweet resignation may be 
learned by physical suffering. Yet who knows that the 
hearts even of these sainted sufferers might not have 
throbbed with still stronger love if the blood that vital- 
ized them had been richer and warmer ? 

Do not. I pray you. misunderstand me. For no con- 

1 A sound mind in a sound bodv, 



36 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

sideration would I disparage the merits of any of my 
fellow-men, — ' least of all those who most deserve our 
sympathy and appreciation ; nay, our emulation. It is 
their fate to suffer rather than to do, and to suffer with 
godlike patience and fortitude is even nobler than to 
achieve with godlike power ; in its influence upon 
other hearts and lives, even its achievements may be 
more beneficent. 

But, though disease may sometimes exert a most holy 
influence, it is not only never to be sought, but it is 
always to be avoided by every means in our power, — 
except the violation of a higher duty. Body, mind, 
and heart are all stronger, better qualified to do their 
duty, in health than in disease. 

And, to return to the subject with which we began 
this morning's Talk, one of our duties is to enjoy. We 
exist not only to make others happy, but to be happy 
ourselves. Both happiness and misery are contagious. 

Other things being equal, our happiness is in propor- 
tion to our health ; and again, other things being equal, 
our health is in proportion to our goodness, — that is, 
as I have already shown, in proportion as we obey the 
laws of our being. 

Jonathan Tower. Dr. Dix, what do you mean by 
" other things being equal " ? 

Dr. Dix. By other things, I mean in the one case 
character and external circumstances, and in the other 
natural constitution and external circumstances. Thus, 
the bedridden invalid may sing with joy, while the vig- 
orous criminal who never suffered a day's illness endures 
mental tortures that only he and such as he knows ; or 
while the mother, herself in perfect health perhaps, 
is weeping for her children, and will not be comforted 
because they are not. Thus also one with inherited dis- 
ease, or one placed in circumstances beyond his control, 
or one heroically discharging his duty, may to the very 
best of his ability obey the laws of his being, and yet 



MORE ABOUT GOOD BOYS AND "FUN." 37 

be sick unto death ; while another who cares little for 
law or duty may live on in comparative health. 

But, " other things being equal/'' both health and hap- 
piness are in exact proportion to goodness. 

" The good boy does nH know how to have fun " ? I tell 
you he is the only one who does know how to have it. 
Compare his cheek ruddy, his eye bright, his laugh loud 
and ringing, his pulses bounding, from his faithful obe- 
dience to nature's laws ; his brow open and unclouded, 
his heart loving, light, and hopeful, from his obedience 
to the law of right, — compare these with the cheek 
pallid, the eye listless, the blood vitiated and sluggish, 
from nature's laws violated ; the heart heavy, filled with 
dull, aching discontent, from the ever-living sense of 
wrongs done in the past and unrepented in the present, 
— compare all these, I say, and then judge who it is 
that " knows how to have fun." 



VIII. 
CLEVERNESS AND COURAGE. 

Helen Sawyer. Dr. Dix, I think we are all convinced 
that in reality the intelligence, power, and courage of 
the world are on the side of virtue- rather than vice; 
and yet it seems to me that it is very common for even 
older people than we are to look upon good people as 
rather slow and uninteresting, and upon bad people — 
at least somewhat bad people — as — as — 

Dr. Dix. As fast and interesting ? 

Helen Sawyer. As more clever, and enterprising, and 
courageous, and all that. 

Dr. Dix. Among many unthinking people no doubt 
such an impression prevails, — only, however, among 
those who know very little of what real goodness is. 
If there is any cause for it, aside from perversity of 
heart and judgment, it must consist in certain advan- 
tages which the unscrupulous possess over those who 
are restrained by their sense of right and wrong. To 
illustrate : Witty things may be said on certain occa- 
sions which would be wrong on account of their unkind- 
ness, irreverence, impropriety, or perhaps their profan- 
ity. A good man would not say them even if they came 
unbidden into his mind ; a bad man would. There are 
persons who cannot be witty or brilliant without being 
at the same time cruel, immodest, or profane. A very 
cheap kind of wit and brilliancy, is it not ? 

Again, keen, shrewd, brilliant acts may be performed 
which would be wrong on account of their unkindness 
or positive dishonesty. A good man would not perform 
them, not because he lacks the shrewdness or the bril- 



CLEVERNESS AND COURAGE. 39 

liancy, — lie may possess these qualities or he may not ; 
a bad man would not hesitate, if he thought of them, 
and thus he might gain a reputation for " smartness " 
and enterprise which his honest, honorable neighbor 
must needs forego. Scholars, do you know any such 
clever men in public or in private life ? Do you envy 
the reputation they have gained ? How do you sup- 
pose they are regarded in the secret hearts even of those 
who profess to admire them ? With contempt, — yes, 
even by those who applaud the loudest. Many and many 
a time I have seen men laughing at the wicked drollery 
or cunning of some smart buffoon or scapegrace. Did 
he fondly imagine that he was winning their real ad- 
miration ? Perhaps he did not care, so long as he won 
their noisy applause ; but the fact is, there was not one 
of them who did not despise him in his inmost heart, 
not one of them who would not feel degraded by hav- 
ing him at his own table or fireside. 

Archibald Watson. Those of his own kind would n't 
feel so, would they ? 

Dr. Dix. I believe that even those of his own kind, 
congenial spirits, would, way down deep, feel a contempt 
for him, as well as for themselves for being of his kind. 
There is implanted somewhere in every human heart 
an unconquerable contempt for evil and admiration for 
good. Few men are so abandoned that they do not 
honestly wish their children to follow a path different 
from their own. There are times in the lives of all bad 
men when this inner sense awakens, and they feel the 
impulse to escape from their degradation ; to be some- 
thing like the good and the noble, whom they cannot 
but admire. In this inner sense, which, I believe, never 
utterly dies, lies the germ of hope for every living soul. 

For a reason similar to that I have given, another 
common impression among the unthinking is that the 
good are apt to be wanting in hardy courage. A bad 
man will fight — sometimes, not always — when a good 



40 



CHARACTER BUILDING. 



man will not simply because his conscience will not let 
him. Fighting, as a test of courage, is apt to be greatly 
overestimated. There are few men, either good or bad, 
who cannot or will not fight on occasion. The whole 
human race has descended from a fighting ancestry. 
Every war has demonstrated this fact; and how the 
best compare with the worst, when the occasion renders 
fighting necessary and therefore justifiable, the story of 
the New York regiment to which I have already alluded 
most strikingly illustrates. When fighting is neither 
necessary nor right, it generally requires more real cour- 
age to resist the impulse to fight than to yield to it, 
inasmuch as it is harder for most men to endure ridi- 
cule, the suspicion of cowardice, or the smarting sense 
of wrong unavenged, than to endure physical pain and 
danger. This is not always true, of course. We must 
admit that there are some physical cowards who refuse 
to fight, not because they think it wrong, but because 
they are afraid of the bullet, or, among the more vul- 
gar, of the bloody nose. That is a kind of peaceable- 
ness which is not goodness. It is even worse than the 
combativeness of the wicked man ; for physical courage 
is a virtue, — one of a low order, it is true, when unat- 
tended by other virtues, one which we share with the 
brute creation, but still a virtue, — whereas cowardice, 
whether physical or moral, is not only no virtue, but 
one of the most justly despised of all despicable traits. 
If, then, there is a boy among you who, on being in- 
sulted, refuses to fight, before you stigmatize him as a 
coward, satisfy yourselves why he refuses. If it is be- 
cause it is against his conscience, admire him, honor 
him, crown him with the olive wreath of a victor ; foi 
he is a conqueror of the most heroic type, he is greatei 
than one that taketh a city. If, on the other hand, ii 
is certain — but how can you know ? — that it is only 
because he is afraid of a black eye or a bloody nose, 
why, then you are at liberty to despise him, or rathei 



CLEVERNESS AXD COURAGE. 41 

his cowardice, a little more even than you despise the 
cowardice of the bully who insulted him. 

Charles Fox. Why do you say cowardice of the bully 
who insulted him ? 

Dr. Dix. Because a bully is almost always a cow- 
ard. In the case supposed he is certain to be one. It 
requires not even physical courage to insult one who 
will not resent the insult. 

Now, boys, don't look so complacently warlike. I 
have not been pronouncing or even hinting a eulogy 
upon the " manly art/' I said distinctly that the good 
boy will not fight unless he is absolutely compelled ; 
but it is n't because he is afraid to fight : the only thing 
he is afraid of is wrong. And, girls, don't look so indif- 
ferent and uninterested. There are more ways of fight- 
ing than with the fists — there are other wounds than 
those of the body. Good people are generally terribly 
shocked at a desperate set-to between two fiery-tem- 
pered, brawny-armed fellows, their eyes glaring, their 
breasts heaving, their muscles straining, their blood, 
perhaps, flowing. And well they may be shocked, — it 
is a disgraceful scene, worthy only of game-cocks and 
bull-dogs, a scene that rational beings should be ashamed 
of, as they would be ashamed of wallowing in the mud, 
grubbing their food out of the gutter, or of any other 
act of pure bestiality. But, brutal as it is, and disgust- 
ing to all persons of true refinement, there are other 
ways of fighting that do not bring into play even the 
virtues of brute courage and fortitude, ways meaner 
and more contemptible, if less brutish. Better be bru- 
tish than fiendish. 

Helen Mar. Are those the ways girls fight ? 

Dr. Dix [joining in the general laughter^ Did I 
seem to imply that ? If I did, I most sincerely beg 
your pardon. Those ways of fighting are not confined 
to any sex, class, or age. I am happy to believe we 
have as little of them in this school as in any civilized 
community of equal number. 



42 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

But the time approaches to engage in an entirely 
different kind of contest, one neither mean nor brutal, 
but most honorable and ennobling. 

Helen Mar. Before the tocsin sounds for that strug- 
gle, may I ask whether the desire for victory, which 
must be the chief motive in all contests, is not in itself 
purely selfish ? The expressions " magnanimous foe," 
" generous rivalry," and the like, which we so often 
hear, have always seemed to me somewhat paradoxical. 
Even in our studies, the desire to stand first involves 
the desire that some one else shall stand second. How 
can that justly be called magnanimous or generous ? 

Dr. Dix. The question does you great credit, Miss 
Mar. But we are none of us accountable for the pos- 
session or lack of natural endowments. To make the 
best use of those we possess is a solemn obligation which 
must be evident to all. If we outstrip others in the race, 
it is strong presumptive evidence that we are faithfully 
fulfilling that solemn obligation, and we are justly en- 
titled to the satisfaction which always rewards the 
performance of duty. This is the only satisfaction re- 
sulting from victory which is really magnanimous or 
generous. If we desire either that the endowments of 
others shall be inferior to our own, or that they shall 
neglect them for the sake of our triumph, we are not 
merely selfish, but actually malevolent. 

But the desire to do something better than has yet 
been done is neither selfish nor malevolent. It is grand, 
noble. It is the lever which has lifted the race of men 
throughout the generations of the past to higher and 
higher planes of being, and which will continue to lift 
them throughout the generations to come. 



IX. 
THE BATTLE. 

Dr. Dix. Scholars, it is not my intention to appro- 
priate any part of this short period to individual dis- 
cipline. The time is to be kept sacred* to the purpose 
originally announced. One of the most effective means, 
however, of accomplishing that purpose is to take ad- 
vantage of passing occurrences in school life, and I 
shall begin with the very unpleasant occurrence of yes- 
terday. 

In last week's Talk I hoped I had impressed you all 
with not only the wickedness, but the vulgarity also, 
the low brutality, of pugilistic encounters. I learn this 
morning, however, that after school yesterday two young 
men, from whom I had every reason to expect better 
things, committed the very fault I had so recently con- 
demned. [Hisses, which the Doctors raised hand in- 
stantly checks. ,] 

I can account for the unpleasant circumstance only 
in one of two ways : Either it was due to a deliberate 
defiance of my expressed opinions and sentiments, and 
in deliberate opposition to the influence I was trying to 
exert — 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Dr. Dix, I beg you will not think 
that. 

Archibald Watson. And I, too, Dr. Dix. I assure 
you it was not so. 

Dr. Dix. I am very glad to hear so much from you 
both. The only other supposition, then, I can enter- 
tain is, that our Talk suggested and actually led to 
your committing the offence which was its subject. 



44 



CHARACTER BUILDING. 



Although, as I have implied, your formal trial and pun- 
ishment must be reserved for another hour, yet you 
may, if you are willing, state whether this supposition 
is correct or not. Jenkins ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Well, it came about in this way : 
We got to talking after school about what you said 
about fighting. Watson said he believed every fellow 
that was not a coward would fight if he were insulted. 
I told him I did n't believe anything of the sort. He 
insisted upon it, and said that I would fight myself if I 
were insulted badly enough. I said I would n't, and I 
was no coward either. He said he would like to see it 
tested. I said I could nH be insulted, any way. " Oh," 
said he, " so that 's the kind of fellow you are, is it ? " 
Well, this made me pretty mad ; but I kept quiet. I 
only explained that anybody who insulted me would be 
too low to be noticed. He said all that was very grand 
talk, but if the trial really came I would n't find it 
so easy as I thought. Well, the talk went on in that 
style, when all at once, before I knew what his game 
was — He may tell the rest. 

Dr. Dix. Go on, Watson. 

Archibald Watson [hanging his head]. I slapped 
him over the mouth. I only wanted to see if he was 
the saint and hero he pretended to be. 

Dr. Dix. And you, Jenkins ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. My fist struck out before I could 
help it. He did it so quickly he did n't give me time 
to think. [Applause, 'which the Doctor does not check.] 

Dr. Dix. And you, Watson, having satisfied your 
curiosity, having found out that he was n't " the saint 
and hero he pretended to be," took the blow in good 
part, laughed, and asked his pardon ? 

Archibald Watson [coloring with shame']. N-no, sir. 
He hurt me a good deal, and — and I struck back, and — • 

Dr. Dix. Well, what then, Jenkins ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Then tve had it. 



THE BATTLE. 45 

Dr. Dix. Yes, your appearance indicates pretty 
plainly that you both. " had it." [Laughter.'] Your 
senseless quarrel is a fair type of quarrels in general. 
Very rarely are both sides equally to blame ; still more 
rarely is one side altogether blameless. Perhaps in the 
present instance one of the parties is as near an ap- 
proach to — 

Archibald Watson. Dr. Dix, may I say something 
more ? 

Dr. Dix. Go on. 

Archibald Watson. I have been thinking about the 
affair ever since it occurred, and I want to say that I was 
entirely to blame [Voices. "Yes." "That's true."] — 
and I want to ask his pardon here and now. [Applause.] 

Geoffrey Jenkins. No. I was partly to blame. [Voices. 
" No ! " " No ! "] Yes, I ought to have carried out my 
boast. 

Archibald Watson. But he couldn't. I did^n't give 
him time to think. His fist struck out almost of its 
own accord. He could n't help it. And he served me 
right, any way. [Applause.] 

Geoffrey Jenkins. It is not quite true about my not 
being able to help it. A sort of half-thought flashed 
through my mind, "Now is the time to prove my boast- 
ing true. Now is the time to do what Dr. Dix talked 
about ; " — but with it came the other thought, " I 'd like 
to do so well enough ; but I 'd rather show him that he 
can't slap my mouth without getting his own slapped a 
good deal harder," — and I want to ask his pardon for 
that. 

Archibald Watson. Well, any way, I was the most to 
blame. Was n't I, Dr. Dix ? 

Dr. Dix. Your schoolmates evidently think you 
were ; and, since you ask, I have no hesitation in pro- 
nouncing you very much the more to blame. According 
to the account, in which you both agree, you were the 
entirely unprovoked aggressor. 



■±6 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Archibald Watson, And he was not at all to blame, 
was lie ? 

Dr. Dix. That does not concern you so much as it 
concerns him. He insists upon it that he was. Well, 
boys, in spite of me and my plans, you seem to have 
pretty nearly settled the whole affair between your- 
selves. So I will say what little remains to be said 
about it now. You were both to blame, though in very 
different degrees : one of you for his uncalled-for, his 
utterly unjustifiable insult to his friend and school- 
mate ; and the other for not yielding to the noble im- 
pulse of his higher nature, which, though feeble and 
momentary, he acknowledges he felt. Both of you are 
grievously to blame for the unrestrained rage to which 
you afterwards gave way. The actual physical pain 
you inflicted upon each other was the least part of your 
offence, and I will allow r it to stand for a part of your 
punishment. Not only this, but so far as that physical 
pain cleared away the angry clouds from your brows 
and from your hearts, and led you to the magnanimous 
confessions you have publicly made this morning, I con- 
sider it a positive good. It certainly was far better than 
an outward peace preserved at the cost of bitter wrath 
and hatred rankling in secret. 

So now you may shake hands in token of your mutual 
forgiveness and the renewal of a friendship which, I 
hope, will be strengthened by the wrench it has re- 
ceived. We will consider the purely personal part of 
this discussion at an end. 



X. 

WARS AND RUMORS OF WARS. 

Dr. Dix. When I began these Talks, I was not so 
sanguine as to expect that the wrong pointed out would 
thenceforth be invariably shunned. If evil were so 
easily abolished and good so easily established, the 
world would have reached perfection ages ago, and the 
occupation of those who seek to do good, like Othello's, 
would be gone. 

But character is not spoken into existence by the 
utterance of a few words, as were the palaces of the 
"Arabian Nights " by the magician's voice. It is formed 
by long, slow processes. It grows, like a tree, cell by 
cell, fibre by fibre, branch by branch ; it is builded, 
stone by stone, like real palaces whose foundations are 
on the solid earth. But if it cannot be spoken into ex- 
istence, neither can it be destroyed in an instant, by the 
magician's voice. Once builded, it is firm and solid 
" from turret to foundation stone." It is even firmer and 
more solid than any material palace or castle ; for no 
enemy can batter down its walls, no treacherous torch 
can reduce it to a heap of ruins. No hand but the 
owner's can harm or deface it. 

I expect no magical results from these appeals. I 
hope and expect something better than magic, — pro- 
gress towards the good and the true, which shall be real 
progress, slow though it may be. 

The incident of yesterday neither surprised nor dis- 
heartened me. Our Talk against fighting did not pre- 
vent an actual fight from taking place within a week. 
According to the account given by the participants, it 



48 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

even suggested and in a certain way induced it. Did 
the Talk then do no good ? Nay, did it not do positive 
harm ? I trow not. I will not be over-anxious ; for 
when the physician attempts to cure a disease, he some- 
times finds its peculiar symptoms aggravated, rather 
than reduced, by his first treatment : but that does not 
trouble him ; he knows that he must awaken the enemy 
before he can drive him out. 

I do not expect that talking will altogether prevent 
fights and quarrels in the future ; but, scholars, is it 
too much to hope that it will make them fewer, less 
bitter, and sooner mended ? that it will make them 
more odious in your eyes, and make peace, harmony, 
and love more beautiful ? 

I have already characterized pugilistic encounters as 
low, vulgar, and brutal. Of all forms of contention 
among human beings, they seem to me the most so. I 
cannot perceive any respect in which man-fights or boy- 
fights of this kind differ essentially from dog-fights, 
except that, as a general rule, the dog exhibits more 
desperate pluck and fortitude than the man. Very few 
men would allow themselves to be torn limb from limb 
rather than relinquish their desperate grip on the ad- 
versary, as many a dog has done. 

There is sublimity as well as terror in the spectacle 
of armies battling with each other amid the roaring of 
artillery, the flashing and clashing of steel, and the 
thundering, rushing tread of armed hosts. Even the 
spectacle of a pair of duellists, calmly facing each other 
with their deadly weapons, horrible indeed though it 
be, cannot inspire the utter disgust and loathing in the 
civilized mind that it feels at the sight of a pair of 
human beings, insane with rage, doing their utmost to 
pound the " divine semblance " out of each other's faces 
with their fists. 

The human hand is a noble and beautiful object. 
Whether it wield the author's pen, the artist's pencil, 



WARS AND RUMORS OF WARS. 49 

or the artificer's tool ; whether it invoke the soul of 
music, thrill the heart of friendship or love with its 
warm grasp, or sway multitudes with its wide sweep, 
the human hand is a noble and beautiful object to con- 
template ; — but the human fist ! faugh ! how does it 
differ from a hammer or a club, except that it is not so 
heavy, hard, or deadly ? As a weapon it is inferior to 
almost any other that nature has provided. Carnivora 
have terrible teeth and claws ; the larger herbivora have 
horns and hoofs ; other animals are armed with swords, 
arrows, or stings, — each kind showing that in its com- 
bats it only carries out the design of nature. Man was 
made for nobler things than fighting with his fists or 
with less vulgar weapons. 

And now I wish you to notice how, as we ascend in 
the scale of being, we find the beastly instinct of fight- 
ing less and less developed. Savage man, in all ages 
and in all countries, is continually at war with his fel- 
low-savage. The barbarian enjoys longer or shorter 
intervals of peace according to his degree of advance- 
ment beyond savagery ; while civilized man frequently 
lives through entire generations without knowing war 
save in history. As the world advances in civilization 
we see the tendency still more strikingly shown. In 
ancient times war seems to have been the chief occupa- 
tion of even the most civilized nations. The wonder is 
that, with such continual cutting and slashing at one 
another, such endless pillaging and burning, the human 
race, with the works of its 'hands, was not altogether 
exterminated. 

Thomas Dunn. Their weapons were not so effective 
as those of modern times. 

Dr. Dix. True. If they had been as effective, wars 
could not have been protracted through whole genera- 
tions, as they sometimes were. The superiority of mod- 
ern arms is often assigned as the reason why there is 
less fighting than formerly. Doubtless this is one great 



50 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

reason ; but another and more adequate explanation is 
the improved moral and intellectual status of modern 
man over his ancient progenitor. As his intellect ad- 
vances, he devises more and more effective means of 
destroying life ; but meanwhile his heart and soul keep 
pace with his intellect, and hence his disposition to 
make wanton use of his deadly inventions diminishes, 
and his disposition to settle his differences by arbitra- 
tion increases. 

Florence Hill. Do you suppose the time will come 
when war will be entirely unknown, when all disagree- 
ments between nations will be settled by arbitration ? 

Dr. Dix. The civilized part of the world have the 
best of reasons for looking forward to such a time. It 
is a point in perfection towards which civilized man is 
slowly but surely advancing. 

Florence Hill. That will be the time when men shall 
" beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears 
into pruning-hooks." 

Dr. Dix. Try to imagine such a golden age, scholars. 
No repetition possible of such horrors as your fathers 
and mothers witnessed only a short quarter-century 
ago ; no such evils as exist even in the peaceful to-day ; 
no millions of treasure wasted in the making of arms 
and munitions and in the building of fortifications ; no 
hundreds of thousands of able-bodied men taken from 
the ranks of useful labor to consume in idleness the 
products of others' industry ! 

Florence Hill. Do you Relieve, Dr. Dix, that such an 
age will actually come ? 

Dr. Dix. Why should I not ? The history, philoso- 
phy, and faith of mankind all point to that glorious 
consummation. 

George Williams. And yet when it comes there will 
be something lost to the world. 

Dr. Dix. Possibly. The proverb says, "There is 
no great gain without some small loss." What do yon 
think will be lost ? 



WARS AND HUMORS OF WARS. 51 

George Williams. Well, it seems to nie such, an age 
must be exceedingly tame. There will be no grand 
military heroes to admire, — no Grants, nor Shermans, 
nor Sheridans, nor Custer s, nor Stonewall Jacksons. 
In private life there will be no father nor brother who 
has shown his courage and patriotism by going to the 
wars. 

Florence Hill. Among all the horrors and sacrifices 
of our great war, did it not have at least one great and 
good effect ? Did it not make men and women sud- 
denly forget their selfishness and their avarice, and be- 
come devoted patriots ? 

Dr. Dix. We will reply next Wednesday. 



XI. 
WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL FIGHT. 

Dr. Dix. If there were no wars, there would cer- 
tainly be no grand military heroes, no soldier fathers, 
brothers, husbands, or lovers to admire and be proud of 
— or to mourn. 

But Peace has its heroes as well as War. There is 
other glory than that of the battlefield. The most he- 
roic bravery may be shown in saving life as well as in 
destroying it. Does a young man weary of the tame- 
ness of peace, and thirst for the glory that heroic self- 
sacrifice brings ? There is no lack of opportunity ; the 
bravest soldier that ever charged battery, or leaped over 
parapet, was no braver than the physician or the nurse 
who remains unflinchingly at the post of duty, while 
others are fleeing from the pestilence that wasteth at 
noonday ; or the fireman who dares wounds and death 
more terrible than those from the bullet or the bayonet ; 
or the engineer who saves his train at the cost of his 
own life ; or the ship captain who will not leave his 
sinking wreck until all others are saved, from the cabin 
passenger to the miserable stowaway ; or the lifeboat- 
man ; or any one else who flings himself into the breach 
at the trumpet-call of duty, — not, mark you, to shoot 
and cut and thrust and stab, not to kill, but to save ! 

No opportunity for heroism when wars shall have 
been banished from earth ? Think of Father Damien ! 

Susan Perkins. Can there really be such a thing as 
a righteous war ? 

Dr. Dix. Most people think so. We Americans look 
upon all our great wars as righteous, at least on one 
side. 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL FIGHT. 53 

Susan Perkins. And I suppose those who fought on 
the other side thought the same for their side ? 

Dr. Dix. Unquestionably. 

Susan Perkins. But both sides couldn't be in the 
right. 

Dr. Dix. That seems evident. 

Susan Perkins. Does the side that is in the right 
always win the victory, as we Americans have always 
done ? 

Dr. Dix [smiling']. "We Americans" have not al- 
ways been victorious ; in our last war half of us were 
defeated. Now let me ask you a question : If millions 
of civilized people think one thing right, and millions 
of other civilized people think just the opposite, who is 
to decide which is really the right ? 

Susan Perkins. Why, I suppose the stronger party 
will decide. 

Dr. Dix. When strength has been appealed to, 
strength has always decided ; and the world has gener- 
ally concurred in the decision. " Might makes right." 

Susan Perkins. But it is n't always really true, is it, 
that might makes right ? 

Dr. Dix. By no means. But in purely political wars, 
not involving any great moral question, it has always 
been so regarded. The party that revolted against the 
existing form of government, if successful, were " glo- 
rious revolutionists ; " if defeated, they were " traitors 
and rebels." 

Susan Perkins. I don't understand how the time can 
ever come when it will be otherwise. 

Dr. Dix. As I said, the nations are growing more 
intelligent and more humane. The time was when it 
was thought not only just, but perfectly rational, to de- 
cide by a mortal combat between private individuals 
which of them was in the right. The world has out- 
grown this palpable absurdity. Why should it not in 
time grow intelligent enough to perceive that a national 



54 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

combat is no more rational a criterion of right and jus- 
tice than a private combat is ? 

Susan Perkins. Then, if the stronger nation is not 
to decide, who will ? 

Dr. Dix. If what are called the " Laws of Nations " 
are not definite enough in themselves to settle a disa- 
greement between two nations or two parts of the same 
nation, it will, by common consent, be referred to a 
commission of other friendly powers. This is what we 
mean by arbitration. What is the most famous instance 
of the sort that you know of ? 

Susan Perkins. The commission that sat at Geneva 
on the Alabama Claims. 

Dr. Dix. Yes. Undoubtedly it prevented what, less 
than a century ago, would have been a long and bloody 
war. 

Susan Perkins. That might always have been done, 
might it not ? 

Dr. Dix. Certainly, if only the parties interested 
had agreed to it. 

Susan Perkins. Then I don't understand how any 
war that was ever fought can be called a righteous war. 

Dr. Dix. Simply because it " takes two to make a 
bargain." It is not enough for one side to be willing 
to appeal to arbitration. If one side will not assent 
to this peaceable mode of settlement, then nothing re- 
mains for the other side but to fight or submit to what 
it considers wrong. As the world advances, the general 
sentiment of humanity will grow so strong in favor of 
arbitration, and its indignation at the barbarous crim- 
inality of forcing a war will be so overpowering, that 
no nation will dare to brave it. Wars will go out of 
fashion as duels have already gone. 

Florence Hill. Dr. Dix, you spoke of one nation be- 
ing forced to fight or submit to wrong. Are we not 
taught that it is better to suffer wrong than to do 
wrong ? 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL FIGHT. 55 

Dr. Dix. Better to suffer wrong than to do wrong, 
always, either for a man or for a nation. But, though 
we may rightfully submit to wrong in our own persons, 
we have no right to allow others to suffer through our 
neglect. Especially is it our duty to see that our be- 
loved country suffers no wrong from its enemies that 
we can prevent by any personal sacrifice ; to see that 
future generations inherit no burden of injustice or 
oppression from our cowardice or neglect of duty. It 
is because our fathers did their duty in this respect so 
nobly and heroically that we are now enjoying our 
inalienable rights to liberty and the pursuit of happi- 
ness, with no earthly power to disturb us or make us 
afraid. 

Charles Fox. Is it ever right to fight except as a 
soldier for one 1 s country ? 

Dr. Dix. " Ever " is a very comprehensive word. I 
can truly say that I never saw the time in my own life 
when I thought it was right for me, and I hope you 
will never see the day when it will be right for you. 

Charles Fox. But it may come, may it not ? 

Dr. Dix [laughing]. How natural it is for a boy to 
love to talk about fighting ! If you should ever see as 
much of ;t as my comrades and I saw during the war, 
perhaps it will not seem so fascinating to you. Man is 
a combative animal ; but he is generally pretty easily 
satisfied : a few weeks in the hospital are likely to cure 
him entirely. 

Well, since you insist upon it, I believe I made the 
statement a while ago that the good boy will not fight 
unless he is absolutely compelled. That implies that 
there may be circumstances when it is not only not 
wrong, but positively his duty to fight. 

Fighting is not wrong in itself : it is the hatred, cru- 
elty, injustice, selfishness, pride, vanity, greed, or un- 
reasoning anger that so often accompanies fighting that 
is wrong. 



56 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Jonathan Tower. You said a good boy will not fight 
unless he is absolutely compelled. Even a coward will 
fight then. I have read that the most timid animals 
sometimes defend themselves fiercely when driven? to 
desperation. 

Dr. Dix. The time when the coward will fight may 
be the very time when the good and really brave boy 
will not. 

Charles Fox. Dr. Dix, will you please say when you 
think it would be right to fight, except as a soldier for 
your country ? 

Dr. Dix. You seem to think this is one of those oc- 
casions. [Laughter. ~\ You seem most desperately deter- 
mined to carry your point, at all events. Well, I will 
ask you to suppose a case. 

Charles Fox. If you should be walking with your 
mother or sister, and a ruffian should attack her. 

Dr. Dix. That would be a trying situation, indeed ! 
The boy or man that would not fight then would be 
rather a sorry specimen of humanity. [More seriously.'] 
And, scholars, don't you think the case supposed is an ad- 
mirable illustration of the situation in which the loyal, 
patriotic citizen feels himself when his mother country 
is attacked by ruffians ? 

Many Voices [heartily']. Yes, sir. 

Dr. Dix. Yes. There is a very close kinship between 
the instinct of patriotism in the noble soul and filial 
affection and faithfulness. Well, you may suppose 
other cases. 

Henry Jones. When you see a big fellow abusing a 
little one [glancing resentfully at Joseph Cracklin], 

Joseph Cracklin. Sometimes little fellows deserve 
to be punished for their insolence. 

Dr. Dix [with keen significance]. A fellow with a 
big soul as well as a big body never recognizes " inso- 
lence " in a little fellow. 

Henry Jones. And I only told him he was a — 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL FIGHT. 57 

Dr. Dix. And a little fellow with a big soul never 
tries to shield insolence with his little body. But 
enough of this. Go on with your cases. 

Frank Williams. If a burglar should break into your 
house. 

James Murphy. If a robber should attack you in the 
street. 

Dr. Dix. With all due respect to your coolness and 
courage, boys, I think it scarcely probable that many of 
you will enjoy such opportunities to display those ad- 
mirable qualities, however much you may covet them. 
Never mind doubling up your fists ?iow, — there ? s no 
immediate danger that I can see. [Laughter.^ 

Without reference to any incident that has occurred 
among us, let me remind you that there is a wide dif- 
ference between a blow struck in self-defence and one 
struck in mere revenge. And let me remind you, boys, 
and girls too, that there is a kind of self-defence besides 
that against blows upon the right cheek. There are 
enemies within our own bosoms far more dangerous than 
any we are likely to encounter without. Against them 
the good boy and the good girl will fight with all the 
heroic chivalry they possess. 

Mary Rice. I understood you to justify self-defence, 
Dr. Dix. Are we not told that if any man smite us on 
the right cheek, we are to turn the other also ? 

Dr. Dix. I am not aware that I have as yet expressed 
any decided views on the subject of physical self-de- 
fence. We will talk further upon this subject next 
week. 



XII. 
WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL NOT FIGHT. 

Dr. Dix. Suppose that when men were struck upon 
the right cheek they always turned the other also, how 
would the great aggregate of fighting and quarrelling 
the Avorld over be affected ? 

Mary Rice. It would be very much diminished, of 
course. 

Florence Hill. I should say it would disappear alto- 
gether, if everybody acted on that principle, for nobody 
would strike in the first place. 

Dr. Dix. Well, suppose half the world were inclined 
to strike, but the other half were not inclined to return 
the blows. 

Thomas Dunn. I think the effects would be very 
different with different people. Some would no doubt 
be satisfied with the blow they had already given, and 
would have no disposition to repeat it. 

Dr. Dix. Do you think they would have no feeling 
besides that of satisfaction ? 

Thomas Dunn. They might think the blow was de- 
served, that no more than justice had been done, and 
they might suppose that the reason why it was not 
returned was because the other party viewed it in the 
same light. 

Dr. Dix. Even granting this to be the case (which, 
as human nature is constituted, would not be likely to 
occur very frequently), how would they probably regard 
such an exhibition of patient submission to justice ? 

Thomas Dunn. They might admire it ; -that is, if 
they did n't despise what might seem a want of spirit. 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL yOT FIGHT. 59 

Dr. Dix. But the supposition is that they regard the 
forbearance shown as due only to the sense of justice. 

Thomas Dunn. In that case, of course they couldn't 
but admire it. 

Dr. Dix. Don't you think it possible that they might 
even feel something like regret, — that they might wish 
they had shown a like forbearance ? 

Thomas Dunn. Some might feel so. 

Dr. Dix. A person of real magnanimity would, would 
he not ? 

Thomas Dunn. Yes, sir. 

Dr. Dix. And if he were not a person of magnanim- 
ity, would it matter very much to the other how he 
felt ? 

Thomas Dunn. I suppose not. 

Dr. Dix. At all events, the quarrel would be stopped. 

Thomas Dunn. It might be, in that case. But there 
are other people who, if they find they can abuse any- 
body with impunity, will keep on doing so. 

Dr. Dix. Do you think there are many such ? Did 
you ever see an example ? 

Thomas Dunn. Indeed I have. He is known among 
schoolboys as a bully. Among grown-up people he has 
different names. I lived in a town once where there 
was a man who was always cheating the minister, be- 
cause he thought he was "too pious to quarrel." 

Dr. Dix. And did the minister submit without pro- 
test ? 

Thomas Dunn. I never heard of his protesting. All 
I know is that the same thing was going on when I left 
the town. 

Dr. Dix. What do you think the minister ought to 
have done ? 

Thomas Dunn. I think he ought to have prosecuted 
the rascal for swindling. He ought to have done so for 
the sake of his family, if not for his own sake. Because 
he was smitten on his right cheek he had no right to 



60 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

turn their left cheeks also. Because a man took away 
his coat he had no business to give him their cloaks, 
whatever he did with his own. 

Dr. Dix [coldly]. It seems to me you make a digres- 
sion for the sake of the opportunity to be caustic. We 
were speaking of quarrelling, not of prosecution in a 
court of justice. 

Thomas Dunn. Is n't prosecution a species of quar- 
relling ? 

Dr. Dix. A court of justice bears a relation to pri- 
vate individuals similar to that which a court of arbi- 
tration bears to nations. The legitimate purpose of 
both is the same : to prevent or settle quarrels and see 
that justice is done. So, in a legal prosecution of the 
man who wronged him and his family, your minister 
could not justly be charged with quarrelling. On the 
contrary, if he found that personal appeals to the man's 
conscience and generosity were of no avail, he should 
be credited with resorting to the only peaceable means 
of righting a wrong that lay within his power, arbitra- 
tion. 

Is it not possible, however, that the good man feared 
lest the remedy might prove worse than the evil, — lest, 
in short, it might prove more costly to go to law than 
to submit to the imposition ? 

Thomas Dunn. My uncle offered to pay all the costs 
if he would sue the man. 

Dr. Dix. Ah, there might be costs that your uncle 
could not pay. I know something of the relations be- 
tween country clergymen and their parishioners. 

Louisa Thompson. You called a court of justice a 
court of arbitration to prevent quarrels. In reality is 
there not more quarrelling there than almost anywhere 
else ? Is n't the prosecution itself generally one long 
quarrel between the lawyers ? 

Dr. Dix. We must admit that even lawyers are not 
free from human imperfections. [Laughter.'] There 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL NOT FIGHT. 61 

need be no more quarrelling in determining the truth and 
its proper consequences in a case at law than in a ques- 
tion of science or mathematics. That men pervert and 
abuse their proper functions in the judicial department 
of human society, as they do in all other departments, 
is no reason why the citizen should not perform his 
own proper function as a member of society. 

Xot that he should be r.eady to appeal every trivial 
disagreement. Generally, not only magnanimity and 
dignity, but even common sense and common policy, 
dictate the quiet ignoring of minor injuries from our 
neighbors. 

Florence Hill. Besides, as you said, it costs a good 
deal to go to law : poor people cannot afford it. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, indeed, it costs ! Often far more 
than the wrong it cures. But to resent the wrong in 
other ways is more costly still ; for it costs what is 
more precious than gold and silver. Better suffer in 
person and property than in heart and character. And, 
heart and character aside, it is better to make a little 
concession, even if in doing so we suffer injustice, than 
to live in unending enmity with our neighbor. 

Henri/ Phillips. Is there not danger that we may 
encourage our neighbor to continue in his wrong-doing, 
as the man did that Dunn told us of ? 

Dr. Dix. That person is an example of only one 
class of men, — I am happy to believe of only a com- 
paratively small class. The more probable result of 
our forbearance would be to awaken feelings of shame 
and repentance in those who have wronged us. ]\Ien 
generally have a pretty fair knowledge of what is right 
and just. When their judgment is not clouded by an- 
ger, hatred, or revenge, they usually know when they 
are in the wrong, whether they confess it or not. And 
there is nothing which will sweep away those clouds 
from their minds like turning the other cheek also. 
There is nothing like a soft answer to turn away wrath. 



62 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

One of the most curious and interesting phases of 
human emotion is that which accompanies a reconcilia- 
tion after a quarrel. They whose chief object lately 
seemed to be to injure each other, now vie with each 
other in friendly words and deeds ; whereas each strove 
to be more haughty, bitter, and unyielding than the 
other, now the question is, which shall be the more 
humble and apologetic. In short, the chief object of 
each now is to undo what before he was most anxious 
to do. What better acknowledgment could each make 
that he was mistaken ? that all that energy and passion 
were wasted, — worse than wasted ? It seems to me 
that no lesson can better teach the utter folly as well as 
wickedness of a quarrel than the absurd inconsistencies 
between it and the reconciliation which it almost always 
lies in the power of either party to bring about. 

You all know what is meant by "noble revenge." 
You have read stories of which that is the motif. 
Other things being equal, are there any stories more 
stirring ? are there any in which your sympathy and 
admiration for the hero are more strongly aroused ? 

Helen Mar. I never quite liked the word " revenge " 
in such stories, notwithstanding the " noble." In fact, I 
fail to see how any kind of revenge can be noble. You 
might as well speak of hot ice. I don't see any essen- 
tial difference between heaping coals of fire on your 
enemy's head and heaping them under his barn, except 
that heaping them on his head is very much the worse. 

Dr. Dix. If the only purpose is to cause suffer- 
ing, there is no essential difference. No doubt such 
" noble " revenge is often taken. " I will return him 
good for evil/' one will say, " until he is ready to sink 
into the earth for shame. He shall not dare to hold 
up his head in my presence." And the added thought 
may be, " Everybody will then see how magnanimous I 
am, and how contemptible he is." 

But those whose revenge is really noble have no such 



WHEN THE GOOD BOY WILL NOT FIGHT. 63 

thought. They even lament the pain their return of 
good for evil may cause. They soften the suffering as 
much as possible by kind, forgiving words and a chari- 
table palliation of the injury done them. " You did 
not harm me so very much, after all," they will say. 
"At all events, it is past now, and the future remains 
to us both." 

Then, too, they know well that such " coals of fire 7; 
are beneficent rather than evil in their effects ; that 
they burn out nothing but what is bad, only warming 
the good to life. 

Now, let us suppose them to take the opposite course. 
Suppose they nourish their wrath, and show in every 
way they dare their implacable hatred towards those 
who have injured them : what will be the natural re- 
sult ? 

Henry Phillips. Their mutual hatred will grow 
stronger and stronger. 

Dr. Dix. And suppose that opportunities come when 
they can return evil for evil with interest, and that they 
improve their opportunities, — what then ? 

Henry Phillips. Matters will only grow worse and 
worse. 

Dr. Dix. Though by superior force they may, in a 
sense, be said to vanquish their enemies, will they really 
do so ? 

Henry Phillips. No, Dr. Dix. Their enemies will 
only wait for a chance to " get even " with them. 

Dr. Dix. And so on, back and forth, perhaps from 
generation to generation. If a man smite thee on the 
right cheek, smite him in return ; and if he dare not 
repeat his blow, yet will he find some way to strike 
thee, — in the dark, perhaps. At all events, he remains 
thine enemy. But turn to him the other also, and lo ! 
the hand that smote thee is outstretched for thy for- 
giveness. The only absolute conqueror is Love. 



XIII. 
"GOODY-GOODY" AND GOOD. 

Dr. Dix. You have heard of "hero-worshippers." 
They are almost as solicitous for the welfare and repu- 
tation of their favorites as for their own. They are as 
sensitive to injustice, and especially to ridicule or con- 
tempt that may be cast upon their heroes, as they would 
be in their own behalf. Now, I think I must be an 
example of the species, for I acknowledge a sensitive- 
ness in regard to a certain class of my fellow-beings, 
which some of you have touched more than once. My 
hero is the good boy ; my heroine is the good girl ; and 
you must be careful how you asperse either of these in 
my hearing, for I shall always be their stanch and 
loyal defender. 

Advertisers of merchandise often warn the public 
against base imitations, which, they complain, tend to 
injure the reputation of their wares. Certain classes 
of people suffer from base imitations, but only in the 
minds of those who cannot distinguish between the 
genuine and the spurious. The gallant soldier suffers 
in reputation from the blustering braggadocio who is at 
heart as cowardly as he is blustering. The saint suf- 
fers from the hypocrite ; the true scholar from the 
pedantic sham who astonishes the ignorant with his 
vast stories of learning; and I suspect, from some 
things which have been said and which have formed 
the subjects of some of our Talks, that my hero and 
heroine have suffered in your estimation from a similar 
cause. 

There are two kinds of base imitations of the good 



"GOODY-GOODY" AND GOOD. 65 

boy or girl : First, the real, unmitigated hypocrite who 
pulls his long face and whines out his sanctimonious 
cant for the deliberate purpose of concealing his vil- 
lany. This species, I am happy to believe, is exceed- 
ingly rare among young persons ; it generally takes 
more than twenty-one years to develop that degree of 
contemptible wickedness ; so we will not dwell on the 
revolting picture. The second kind is the " goody- 
goody " boy or girl, who is usually rather weak than 
deliberately wicked, although he may have, without 
suspecting it, some of the most despicable traits joined 
to his self-righteousness. 

Jonathan Tower. What traits, for example ? 

Dr. Dix. Well, pusillanimity, vanity, treachery, per- 
haps from a mistaken sense of duty, uncharitableness, 
and that same canting sanctimoniousness which I have 
ascribed to the other and far worse species. 

Is it not possible that this is the kind of good boy 
that some of you had in mind when you compared him 
so unfavorably with the gay, fascinating bad boy of 
your fancy ? If so, I am not sure that I don't agree 
with you. Many so-called bad boys are far more worthy 
of respect, trust, and admiration than boys of this type. 

But the goody-goody boy and the good boy are no 
more alike than a solid gold eagle is like a poorly exe- 
cuted counterfeit. 

Now, scholars, let me give you my ideal of the really 
good boy, my hero, — and I wish you to understand 
that I use the word " boy " generically, as we use the 
word " man," to denote both sexes. 

This is the hero, the knight sans peur et sans re- 
proche : l — 

He is truthful. He would scorn any approach to a 
lie as he would scorn any other act of meanness or of 
cowardice. Do you despise him for this ? do you ad- 
mire a liar ? 

1 Without fear and without reproach. 



66 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

He is generous, — in thought, word, and deed. He 
thinks the best of you that you will allow him to think. 
If others vilify you behind your backs, he takes up the 
cudgel in your defence. If you are in trouble, he does 
his best to help you. How do you like that ? Do you 
prefer a boy who thinks and speaks evil of you, who is 
selfish and unaccommodating, and who laughs at your 
trouble ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Dr. Dix, one of the worst boys in 
town (at least he is called so ; he has been expelled 
from school so often that they are talking of sending 
him to the Eeform School) will always help a fellow 
when he can. He is the most generous boy I ever 
knew. 

Dr. Dix. So far as he " helps a fellow " in a good 
cause he is good. Probably no one is utterly bad. As 
there are faults in the best of men, so there are virtues 
in the worst. As to his being the most generous boy 
you ever knew, that may be, but he is not more gener- 
ous than my good boy, my hero. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. But don't you think that people 
who have the reputation of being bad are apt to be 
more generous and free-hearted than those who have 
the reputation of being good ? 

Br. Dix. I am not speaking of reputation; I am 
speaking of reality. Generosity and free-heartedness 
in themselves are among the noblest and most admira- 
ble qualities we can possess. So far as any one pos- 
sesses them he is good, noble, and admirable, whatever 
he may be in other respects. As to what class of men 
possess them in the greatest measure, I say unhesi- 
tatingly, men who are good in other respects, — not 
goody-goody, you understand, but good. It would be a 
self-contradiction to say the opposite : badness does n't 
consist in good qualities, does it ? nor goodness in bad 
qualities. 

You must bear in mind one universal principle : con- 



"GOODY-GOODY" AND GOOD. 67 

trast always brings things out in bolder relief. Kind- 
ness of heart is expected from a good man, and is not 
noticed as it would be in an otherwise bad man. It is 
no more conspicuous in the good than hard-heartedness 
and selfishness are in the bad. A white handkerchief 
that would not be seen in the sunlighted snow would 
gleam like a star on a heap of coal a furlong away. 
Your reform-school candidate is no more generous and 
free-hearted than my hero; probably not so much so, for 
my hero will always stop to think whether his gener- 
ous impulses if carried out will do more harm than 
good. But let us go on with our portraiture : — 

He is faithful, my good boy is. You can trust him. 
If he has made a promise — and he never makes one 
that is not right — he will fulfil it, if it is within the 
range of possibility. He is always at the post of duty. 
How does that please you ? Do you prefer a boy that 
you cannot trust, — one that lets his post of duty take 
care of itself ? We have spoken of soldiers in the face 
of the enemy : who do you think would make the best 
sentinel ? Whom would you rather trust your life to as 
you slept around the bivouac fire ? 

He is grateful. Grateful to all his benefactors, coun- 
try, parents, friends, teachers, and playmates. Do him 
a kindness, and see how he will receive it. Do you ad- 
mire ingratitude ? 

He is brave and manly. He is not afraid to do his 
duty even in the face of ridicule and, if it should come, 
cruel persecution. In your hearts, what do you think 
of a boy or a man, a girl or a woman, who is afraid to 
do right lest he should be laughed at ? Do you think 
him weak or strong, wise or foolish, noble or contempt- 
ible ? 

He has good habits. He believes he has duties to 
himself as well as to his fellow-men. Nay, he knows 
he cannot properly discharge his duties to others unless 
he takes proper care of himself. He regards his mind, 



68 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

heart, and body as priceless treasures entrusted to his 
keeping ; hence he does all he can to keep his body 
healthy, active, and strong, his mind bright and clear, 
and his heart warm, pure, and unselfish. Do you pre- 
fer the boy of bad habits, who enfeebles his body, stu- 
pefies his brain, deadens and perverts his heart, by 
unhealthful indulgences ? Every other consideration 
aside, which would naturally make the more agreeable 
companion ? Which would you rather do a summer's 
camping with ? You cannot hesitate, for one of the 
inevitable consequences of his good habits is that — 

He is cheerful and light-hearted. Troubles that 
would make some boys miserable he laughs at ; bur- 
dens that would weigh them down to the ground he 
carries as if they were feathers. 

Archibald Watson. Can't a boy be good without be- 
ing healthy, strong, and bright ? 

Dr. Dix. I said he does all he can to make him- 
self healthy, strong, and bright. If he has inherited a 
feeble body or brain, he may at least cultivate a good 
heart and a cheerful temper ; and good habits will re- 
duce his misfortunes to their minimum. What he has 
not received he will not be held accountable for ; the 
servant who had received but one talent was not re- 
quired to render an account for ten. But even if he is 
not naturally vigorous, he may be all I have described. 
Have you never heard of feeble invalids who have 
blessed all with whom they came into contact ? 



XIV. 
THE KNIGHT "SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE." 

Dr. Dix. It is not necessary that a good boy should 
be a bedridden invalid. My hero does not happen to 
be unfortunate in any such way. As I said, he might 
be so afflicted and yet be essentially all I have described 
him ; but so long as he is not he enters into all health- 
ful, invigorating sports with twice the gusto of your 
scapegrace with enervating habits. 

There are other advantages and disadvantages, be- 
sides natural health or disease, that he may have, which 
have nothing to do with vice or virtue save as they 
may serve as temptations to the one or inducements to 
the other. For instance, he may be poor or wealth}', 
handsome or ugly, graceful or awkward, witty or dull ; 
he may be what is called well or humbly born. These 
fortunate and unfortunate accidents, like the sunshine 
and the rain which fall alike upon the just and the 
unjust, are pretty evenly distributed by Fortune among 
• the good and the bad, although I repeat in this connec- 
tion what I have said before : If by wit is meant that 
which is so often coupled with wisdom, you will find 
the greater share of it where you will find the greater 
share of its twin blessing, wisdom, — among the good ; 
and as to personal beauty, there is nothing that will en- 
hance it like the frank, clear eyes and healthy vigor 
that right living gives. 

Julia Taylor. I have heard a great many times that 
vice goes with poverty and ignorance ; that the greater 
proportion of criminals are from the lower classes. If 
that is true, it seems to me very unjust. 



70 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. In naming certain favorable and unfavor- 
able circumstances which have nothing to do with vir- 
tue and vice. I took pains to add, " save as they may 
serve as temptations to the one or inducements to the 
other." Great as are the temptations of wealth and 
station (and the advantages which go with them) to 
certain vices, there is no doubt that extreme poverty 
and ignorance are still greater temptations to other and 
more flagrant sins. Perhaps I should have said these 
good and ill conditions are pretty evenly distributed 
among the naturally good and bad, or among the evil 
and well disposed. Many a man lives a fairly good life 
who under less favorable circumstances might be a 
criminal. Who shall say that he is really a better man 
than his unfortunate brother, " a criminal from the 
lower classes " ? In the eyes of an infallible judge the 
learned dignitary on the bench may be worse than the 
miserable wretch he sentences. 

But let us return to our typical good boy. I have 
heard you in discussing one another talk about such 
and such a one's being a " mighty good fellow." Let us 
see how your hero compares with mine. Tell me about 
your " mighty good fellow." What does he do ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Well, he 's always good-natured 
and full of fun. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; go on. 

Archibald Watson. He 's always ready to share his 
good things with the other fellows. 

Jonathan Tower. He 's always ready to help you if 
you 're in trouble. 

Trumbull Butters. He is n't always bothering you, 
and he does n't look down on you if he is richer and 
smarter than you are. 

James Murphy. He does n't go round telling every- 
thing he knows about you. 

Joseph Cracklin. He does n't flare up at every little 
thing you say in fun. 



SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE. 71 

Charles Fox. He knows how to play ball, and tramp, 
and fish. 

Louisa Thompson. He is kind and accommodating 
to his sisters. 

Henry Jones. He knows how to tell stories and do 
lots of other things. 

James Murphy. He wonld n't lie, nor steal, nor do 
anything sneaking any more than he 'd cnt his head off. 

Henry Phillips. He 's bright and clever, does n't say 
soft things, and is n't afraid of anything. 

Dr. Dix. Except what is bad. In short, he is very 
much the same sort of hero I have been describing. 
But perhaps, after all, he does things my good fellow 
does n't do. 

Does he swear a round, ringing oath, for instance ? 
Well, mine could if he wanted to. It does n't take any 
great amount of intellect or wit. Your good fellow 
did n't invent swearing, did he ? so he can't claim ori- 
ginality, and anybody can imitate. A parrot can be 
taught to swear the biggest oath that ever fell from the 
lips of a pirate or a stable boy. Does your good fellow 
feel proud of an accomplishment in w^hich he may be 
overmatched by a parrot ? 

Perhaps he is beginning to take a social glass. Well, 
what superior ability, or genius, or generosity does that 
show ? If one were so disposed, it could be done as 
easily as to take a glass of w r ater ; and how generosity 
can be shown by swallowing anything I confess I am 
not subtle enough to understand. Like swearing, 
drinking is an imitative act. I once heard of a monkey 
who could toss off his glass of wine as jauntily as your 
j oiliest toper. A fine type of good-fellowship that ! 
But Jocko was more sensible than his human boon 
companions ; for when, at last, he took enough to give 
him a headache the next morning, he knew enough 
never to repeat his folly. Few men are as sensible as 
that. 



72 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

There is no patent on drinking. It is open to all. 
It is as free to my good fellow as to yours. He can 
drink whiskey or strychnine, or cut off his fingers with 
a hatchet, if he chooses, just as easily as your good 
fellow can. 

Perhaps he smokes. Another imitative act, to which 
the same train of remaxk will apply, including the mon- 
key. Perhaps he chews. Faugh ! We will draw the 
line there. To associate good-fellowship, in any sense 
of the phrase, with such ineffable nastiness is too gross 
a misapplication of terms to merit a moment's discus- 
sion. 

Trumbull Butters. The first man who swore, or 
drank, or smoked, or chewed, did n't imitate. 

Dr. Dix. We will allow him the full credit for origi- 
nality. Let him have whatever credit is due him for 
his invention or discovery. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. But, Dr. Dix, I don't understand 
that men do these things to show their genius or origi- 
nality. 

Dr. Dix. What do they do them for ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Why, I suppose they do them be- 
cause they enjoy them. 

Dr. Dix. They may continue them for that reason, 
but that is not why they begin them. ISTo human being 
ever enjoyed his first glass of whiskey or his first cigar. 
As to the first profane oath, whatever poor satisfaction 
may have accompanied it must have been far more than 
offset by the moral shock, the inevitable sense of sud- 
den degradation, the uneasy consciousness that remained 
like a foul taste in the mouth. No ; men don't begin 
these things because they enjoy them, but because thej^ 
wish to be thought clever, and spirited, and jaunty, and 
manly, especially — like the parrot and the monkey — 
because they want to do as others do. 

Joseph Cracklin. A good many men who are highly 
respected both smoke and chew. 



SANS PEUR ET SANS REPBOCHE. 73 

Dr. Dlx. True. Man is a N curious animal. He has 
been most justly called a bundle of inconsistencies. 
The king who ranks as the proverb of wisdom did some 
of the most foolish things. 

Such habits among the class of men you refer to sim- 
ply show that they were not always as wise as they are 
now. There was a time when they were foolish boys. 
I know an able and highly esteemed judge who has a 
pirate flag with skull and cross-bones complete tattooed 
on his left arm. It only serves to remind him of his 
ante-college days, when he read dime novels and formed 
a plan, with some of his equally wise and virtuous cro- 
nies, to run away to sea, seize a ship, and change its 
name to " The Black Scourge of the Atlantic." [Laugh- 
ter.'] 

Archibald Watson. Were they going to kill the cap- 
tain and mates ? 

Dr. Dlx. I believe their hardihood did n't go quite 
to that extent. They were going to put them in irons 
and land them on some uninhabited island, I believe. 

The judge that I told you of smokes, too, and, for 
aught I know, chews. He looks upon both his pirate 
flag and his tobacco as ineffaceable scars of his youthful 
folly. 

But we will reserve the subject of Bad Habits for a 
future Talk. I want to say a word more about my hero, 
who, though every inch a boy, is too sensible to be 
caught in any such poorly baited trap as tobacco and 
whiskey. I spoke of myself as a hero-worshipper. I 
regard him with something more than mere approval 
and admiration. When I see the fine scorn with which 
he refuses to speak or even act the smallest lie, the 
hearty cheerfulness with which he prefers the comfort 
and pleasure of others to his own, the pluck and energy 
with which he attacks every obstacle in his path of 
duty, his inexhaustible store of boyish fun and good 
humor, and especially when I see his unassuming mod- 



74 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

esty, as if he were utterly unconscious of doing or being 
anything particularly worthy of praise, how can I help 
being a hero-worshipper ? I can admire a beautiful 
landscape or a beautiful statue, but a beautiful soul I 
can more than admire, — I can love it. 

Nothing is beautiful or lovable that is not good. 
Beautiful evil exists only in poetry and romance. We 
may admire the picturesque villain on the stage or in 
the novel, but in actual life we only abhor him. Mil- 
ton's magnificent Satan, Goethe's clever Mephistopheles, 
would be simply horrible as realities. The thoroughly 
bad, if there were such, would never love, even among 
themselves ; they would herd together simply for the 
advantage of concerted action ; when they had no com- 
mon prey outside they would prey upon one another. 
Even if they were capable of love, — other than that 
purely selfish passion miscalled by that name, — there 
would be nothing to call it forth, for even the worst 
people love only what is good, real or imaginary, in one 
another. Kindness, generosity, self-sacrifice, fidelity, 
square-dealing, bravery, strength, wit, and beauty, — 
these, and such as these, are the qualities that are really 
loved among either the good or the bad. 



XV. 

THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF VICE. 

Dr. Dix. 

" Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen." 

Would it were always so ! Too often, however, the 
fact is exactly the reverse. The " monster " generally 
approaches with a most charming front, a most fascinat- 
ing smile, and the " frightful mien " is assumed when 
it is too late to escape from her clutches. No, not quite 
that ; it is never too late to escape, if the victim is 
only .willing to make the supreme effort. 

Her charming front, her fascinating smile, is a clever • 
disguise. She must needs put it on, else she would 
never secure her prey. In order that temptations may 
tempt they must be tempting ; only gudgeons are silly 
enough to be caught with a bare hook. 

Boys, do any of you look with admiration and envy 
upon what is known as the " fast young man w ? Do any 
of you look forward to the time when you hope to be 
as gay and reckless as he ? Look a little further ; you 
may see him in all stages of his career. The wretched 
old sot that you all view with pity, horror, and disgust 
was once as gay and debonair as he. 

Girls, do any of you find him your most agreeable 
and fascinating companion ? The poor, starved, terri- 
fied wife, fleeing for her life, once looked with your 
eyes and listened with your ears. She no longer re- 
gards with secret admiration the gay young gallant toss- 
ing off his glass of sparkling wine. There's no cure 
like satiety. 



76 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

There is a time in all communities when every one, 
whether ordinarily inclined to smile indulgently upon 
the "fast young man" or not, turns to him the cold 
shoulder. It is when some terrible crime has filled 
every heart with horror and with loathing. It is then, 
if never before, that men of true and tried worth are 
appreciated at their real value. Then the common heart 
goes out, not to brilliant recklessness or graceful vice 
of any kind, but to unfailing virtue. ]STo matter how 
dull, awkward, or simple a man may be, if he be only 
true and good. Then every man's life and character are 
rigidly scrutinized in the universal questioning as to 
who may next turn out a villain. 

But it is not at such times alone that this is the ques- 
tion deep down in every heart. There is never an hour 
when the man of tried virtue and steady sobriety of 
habits is not more in demand in all the real business of 
life than his dissolute neighbor, however gay and fasci- 
nating. There is never an hour when you will not 
place your life and property in the keeping of a man 
distinguished for the homely virtues, rather than in 
that of the most brilliant reprobate that ever tossed off 
his glass of sparkling champagne. 

George Williams. Dr. Dix, allow me to say that I 
think there are a great many exceptions to the rule you 
have just stated. I can name a long list of names of 
men of notoriously vicious habits, who nevertheless 
seem to have been trusted in the most important affairs 
of life. They have been employed to carry into execu- 
tion great financial schemes, to command armies, and 
especially to manage affairs of state. 

Dr. Dix. I see that I have not made my meaning quite 
plain. I compared the man of homely virtue with the 
man of brilliant vice. I emphasized the homeliness of 
the one and the brilliancy of the other. Perhaps this 
was hardly fair to the former. I have already enlarged 
upon the fact that vice has no monopoly of the intellect 



THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF VICE. 77 

and energy of the world ; on the contrary, I have shown 
that virtuous living conduces directly to the development 
of power, while vicious living tends as directly to its 
enervation. Of course, stupidity and ignorance, how- 
ever combined with virtue, cannot be trusted to accom- 
plish results that demand intelligence and skill ; but if 
I implied that my man of homely virtue was lacking in 
intelligence and skill, I certainly did not intend to do 
so. I emphasized the brilliancy of the other, but it was 
the brilliancy of vice, not of intelligence, — the fasci- 
nating personal presence, and low cunning in the execu- 
tion of dishonorable schemes, that distinguish many 
famous but unprincipled men. I also emphasized the 
homeliness of virtue, but I used the word in no reproach- 
ful sense. There is a sort of homeliness that we all 
value, admire, and trust. When a heavy structure is to 
be supported, the homeliness of the solid granite column 
is always preferred to the painting and gilding of the 
hollow shaft of wood. 

Again, I have said that few men are utterly bad. 
Those who are known to be so are never trusted — 
nowadays at least — with " great financial schemes," 
"the command of armies/' or -'the affairs of state." 
Men may have u notoriously vicious habits " united 
with great intellectual power, but they must have — or 
at least must be believed to have — enough moral prin- 
ciple behind it all to render them safe, or they will not 
be trusted. Whatever a man's talents may be, if he is 
of doubtful moral character the question will always be, 
in any of the affairs you have named, is his ability 
preeminent enough to make it worth while to run the 
risk of his possible rascality ? 

In order that two things may be justly compared, they 
must be compared per se, ceteris paribus} Given equal 
ability and skill (and among these I do not include the 
tinsel brilliancy of the " f ast young man" or that of 

1 By themselves, other things being- equal. 



78 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

the more developed rascal of later years), vice stands no 
chance whatever in the competition with virtue, either 
in matters of finance, war, or statesmanship. 

Joseph CracMin. Sometimes the low cunning of the 
rascal that you have spoken of is the very quality that 
is needed to carry forward an enterprise ; then which 
stands the best chance ? 

Dr. Dix. I have been speaking of the community of 
respectable, honest citizens, not of thieves and robbers. 

Jonathan Tower. You remarked a few minutes ago 
that men who are known to be thoroughly bad are not 
trusted with the management of great enterprises now- 
adays ; was there ever a time when they were ? I 
mean, of course, among civilized nations. 

Dr. Dix. Civilized nations have not always been as 
good and wise as they are to-day. The centuries have 
not passed in vain. Yes, Tower, great villains have 
been trusted over and over again, and always with the 
same result : final disaster to themselves and to those 
who trusted them. By bitter experience men have 
learned that nothing is to be hoped from cupidity and 
selfish ambition, unredeemed by some degree, at least, 
of honor and patriotism, however great may be the tal- 
ents which accompany them. 

Jonathan Tower. Was not Napoleon I. a great vil- 
lain, and yet was he not of incalculable benefit, not 
only to France, but to the world ? 

Dr. Dix. The fact that he was the means of so much 
good proves conclusively to my mind that he was not 
an unmitigated villain. No doubt his own glory was 
first in his heart, but that of France was at least sec- 
ond ; and ambitious as he was, I do not believe he would 
ever have consented to raise himself upon the ruins of 
his country. Eemember, too, that Napoleon I. had his 
Moscow, his Waterloo, and his St. Helena. But there 
are not wanting in history examples of ambition as tow- 
ering as his. Alexander raised his country to the pin- 



THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF VICE. 79 

nacle of magnificence, only, by refusing to appoint his 
heir, to pull it down at his death about the heads of his 
successors, as Samson pulled down the temple of the 
Philistines. 

Thus it has always been, and thus it always will 
be. A thoroughly unprincipled and selfish man can be 
trusted only so long as his own interests are subserved 
with the interests of those who trust him. 

Upon the Athenian Alcibiades both Xature and For- 
tune seemed to vie with each other in showering their 
richest gifts. Brilliant and powerful in intellect, cour- 
ageous and energetic in character, yigorous and graceful 
in body, of unbounded wealth and most noble ancestry, 
he was indeed a paragon among that race of paragons. 
"Who can help being deeply interested in such a charac- 
ter ? As we read his story, how we long to learn that 
he was as honorable, prosperous, and happy as he was 
clever, brave, and beautiful ! But how our admiration 
cools as we follow him through his career of heart- 
less ambition, ingratitude, and treachery, till we have 
scarcely pity left for his tragic death and ignominious 
burial ! 

What a life, and what a death ! How glorious they 
might have been had those marvellous intellectual and 
physical endowments been accompanied by a pure 
heart ! As it was, they were like instruments of exqui- 
site workmanship, capable of doing great good or evil 
according as they are in good or evil hands. 



XVI. 
CREEPING, WALKING, AND FLYING. 

Dr. Dix. One of the most powerful orations I ever 
listened to was a New Year's sermon. The speaker, 
already renowned for his burning eloquence, surpassed 
himself. He seemed like one inspired. From begin- 
ning to end his audience sat rapt, almost breathless, in 
their eagerness not to lose a drop of that flashing stream 
of eloquence. It seemed impossible that there should 
have been one in that multitude who could resist the 
appeal ; as if every one must perforce resolve from that 
day to live the noble life so graphically pictured to 
them. 

On our way home I said something like this to a 
middle-aged friend of mine. He admitted the power of 
the address, "but," said he, "it won't last. By to- 
morrow night nine tenths of it will be forgotten. I 
used to become an immaculate saint every New Year's ; 
but I got over that long ago. I found it was of no use. 
It 's easy enough to talk about flying into the upper air, 
but when it comes to the actual flying — we find we 
have n't got the wings." 

" And so," I said, " you think such discourses as we 
have heard to-day do no good ? " 

" Oh, I did n't say that," he answered ; " I did n't say 
it w r ould all be forgotten, — I said nine tenths. And 
then even a temporary lift is better than no lift. If it 
does n't permanently raise us, perhaps it keeps us from 
sinking lower. If our consciences did n't get a stirring 
up once in a while they would die from stagnation." 

His comparison was a very good one. As our bodies 



CREEPING, WALKING, AND FLYING. 81 

are held down to earth by gravitation, so our souls are 
held down by our passions and appetites, and especially 
by the never-ceasing gravitation of habit. A stone 
thrown upward by a single impulse will quickly come 
down again : in order to continue its ascent there must 
be constant applications of power, like the beats of the 
eagle's wings as he soars towards the heavens. 

Frederick Fox. What good does it do to throw the 
stone up at all ? It will come down again just as low as 
it was before. 

Dr. Dix. It may, and it may not. It may be thrown 
from the bottom of a well to the surface, thence to 
the house-top, thence to the hill-top, thence by succes- 
sive throws to the mountain-top. 

The moral world is no more truly a plain than the 
physical world. It has its deep abysses, its hills, its 
mountains, and — its clouds. We cannot rest in the 
moral clouds any more than we can in the physical 
clouds. Even the eagle with his mighty wings must find 
his permanent resting-place upon the solid earth ; but 
he does not rest in the depths of the mines nor in the 
valleys ; his eyry is high up among the mountain crags. 

The inspiring oration I told you of was a single im- 
pulse upward. With some of those who heard it the 
fall backward may have been to the same old level, or 
even to a lower one ; but it need not have been. Some 
of them doubtless were permanently lifted. But, as I 
said, the ascent could not continue without constant up- 
ward impulses, new efforts every day, like the beating 
of wings. Even those who were permanently lifted 
maintained their vantage-ground only by clinging and 
bracing themselves ; for, remember, the path of virtue is 
up a steep mountain side. Few, if any, ever reach the 
summit. Remember also that the mountain is a mound, 
not a cone nor a pyramid. The path is steepest at the 
bottom : the higher we climb, the easier the climbing 
and the firmer the foothold. 



82 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Have these Talks, or others that you have heard, 
or books that you have read, influenced any of you to 
make good resolutions which seemed at first easy to 
carry out, but which afterward proved too difficult for 
you ? And have you, therefore, come to the conclusion 
that there is no use in trying further ? 

As my friend said, there is a vast difference between 
talking and doing ; between laying out a course of ac- 
tion and carrying it into execution. 

Suppose a weak-armed boy should say with desperate 
resolution, " I will lift that weight ! " Suppose a 
young mathematician should clinch his teeth together 
and say to himself, " I will solve that problem ! " Then 
suppose, on making the trial, both should find that they 
had resolved to do the impossible : would that be a suf- 
ficient reason why they should give up trying ? No : 
let them begin with tasks within their power ; let them 
do what is possible. They will find as time goes on that 
they can do more and more, until finally the big weight 
is lifted and the eclipse calculated. And let them re- 
member all this time that if they do their best each 
day, the lifting of the little weight at first is as merito- 
rious as the final magnificent feat. 

Archibald Watson. You have been telling us the 
story of Milo and his calf. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, indirectly. Now give me as famous 
an illustration of the exactly opposite. 

Jane Simpson. The eyeless fishes in Mammoth Cave. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, — another. 

Helen Saivyer. The slave-holding ants of Texas. 

Dr. Dix. Tell us about them. 

Helen Sawyer. After generations of dependence they 
have become so helpless that they cannot even feed 
themselves, and must die of starvation in the midst of 
abundant food when deprived of their slaves. 

Dr. Dix. An unhappy condition which is almost ex- 
actly paralleled by s#me classes of human society, people 



CREEPING, WALKING, AND FLYING. 83 

who both by inheritance and habit have become so de- 
pendent upon their wealth, and the immunity from all 
kinds of effort which wealth secures, that when sud- 
denly deprived of it they are totally helpless : mental, 
moral, and physical idleness have so enervated them 
that they cannot do by a supreme effort what the man 
brought up to labor does almost without effort. 

Suppose one of these unhappy beings, who has inher- 
ited mental, moral, and physical helplessness from a 
line of wealthy and idle ancestors, should chance to 
hear an eloquent discourse on the nobility and advan- 
tages of labor; and suppose that, in the enthusiasm 
kindled by the eloquence, he should form a sudden reso- 
lution to live thenceforth a life of steady industry. He 
begins with plenty of zeal and spasmodic energy ; but 
in a few days — in a few hours, it may be — his zeal has 
burnt itself out and his feeble energies are exhausted. 
The result is inevitable. It is not enough to exercise 
the will-power. That is always able to choose between 
right and wrong ; but not to do an impossibility is not 
wrong. It is not enough to will to do ; there must also 
be the well-woven fibres of brain, muscle, and heart to 
execute. 

Henry Phillips. Then is his good resolution of no 
use ? 

Dr. Dix. That is what I am coming to. He receives 
a sudden, powerful impulse upward ; must he necessa- 
rily fall back to his former level or to a lower one ? 
No ; let him retain some of the vantage that has been 
given him, if it is but a step. Then let him take an- 
other step upward. Since he cannot fly, let him climb ; 
if he cannot walk, he can at least creep upward. 



XVII. 
THE DOCTOR IS FAIRLY CAUGHT. 

Dr. Dix. Confession after detection is not generally 
very highly credited. If any of you acknowledge mis- 
chief that I have already detected, you hardly expect 
me to make much allowance on account of the confes- 
sion. Now, scholars, I have a confession and an expla- 
nation to make to you. The confession is not worth 
much for the reason I have given, — I have been fairly 
caught. \_Sensation.~\ But the explanation and what 
else I have to say will be, I hope, of some use to you. 

Last evening as I sat in my study, not expecting 
visitors on account of the lateness of the hour, one of 
you paid me a business call and caught me in flagrante 
delicto. 1 I was in the very act of smoking a cigar. 
There was no escape ; it would have availed nothing 
to throw the solid evidence of my offence into the grate 
or out of the window, for the air was thick with odor- 
ous, yea, visible evidence, convincing and strong. True, 
I might have left it uncertain as to whether the pungent 
fumes which filled the room had issued from my own 
lips or from those of some recent visitor to whom I had 
hospitably allowed the liberty. I confess that, when I 
heard the rap on my door and saw through the glass 
the familiar form of one of my pupils, such a thought 
flashed through my mind ; but I scorned to act on the 
thought. I was smoking when the lad knocked, — T 
continued smoking after he had entered. To tell the 
truth, however, I was not so unconcerned as I appeared. 
I marked the look of surprised inquiry in his eyes, and 

1 In the commission of the crime. 



THE DOCTOR IS FAIRLY CAUGHT 85 

felt a twinge of self-reproach and — shall I confess it ? 
— shame. I don't think these feelings were so much 
due to the fact that he had seen me smoking as to the 
fact that he had caught me doing what he doubtless 
supposed I would rather conceal. My feeling would 
have been very different if he had seen me smoking in 
the open street, — though that is a thing that I should 
not think of doing any more than I should think of 
drinking a cup of coffee in the open street. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Would you have felt the same if 
he had seen you drinking a cup of coffee in your study ? 

Dr. Dix. I should have had no feeling of any sort 
in that case. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Why should you have had any 
more in regard to the cigar ? 

Dr. Dix. Why do you ask ? Do you include coffee 
and cigars in the same category ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Many people hold that both are 
injurious to the health. 

Dr. Dix. But not equally so. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Then the difference in the fault is 
only in degree, not in kind. 

Dr. Dix. Xo, Jenkins ; I thank you for trying to 
palliate my fault, but I don't think I will accept your 
defence, — not until we have considered the matter fur- 
ther, at all events. 

So far as my rights and privileges are concerned, I 
suppose no one would charge me with transcending 
them. If I choose to indulge in what I must acknow- 
ledge to be a bad habit, in the privacy of my own sanc- 
tum, I have the undoubted right — liberty, I should say ; 
there is a great difference between a right and a lib- 
erty — to do so. Furthermore, I don't know that I am 
under any moral obligation to publish it abroad. Hith- 
erto I have not felt bound to tell you that I smoke my 
cigar nearly every evening and Saturday morning, any 
more than I have felt bound to tell you what I am in 



86 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

the habit of ordering for my supper. But there is this 
difference : I don't care whether you know what my 
supper consists of or not, while I would much rather 
you should not have discovered that I smoke. 

Joseph Cracklin. Why need you have mentioned it, 
then ? The boy who called on you would probably 
never have spoken of it to any one. 

Dr. Dix. That my miserable habit has made such a 
thought as you suggest possible is* punishment indeed ! 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Why would you rather we should 
not know ? 

Dr. Dix. Why would I rather you should not know 
I smoke ? Chiefly for two reasons : First, because I am 
thoroughly ashamed of it. 

Louisa Thompson. We all know that you were a sol- 
dier in the war, and everybody was always willing to 
excuse him for smoking. 

Dr. Dix. No, no, no ! that was no excuse. I learned 
to smoke long before I went into the army. I suppose 
as a foolish boy I was as proud of it as I am ashamed 
of it now. 

But the other reason is a much more important one. 
I would not under any consideration be the means of 
influencing any one — least of all one of those whom 
it is my special duty and pleasure to benefit in all ways 
within my power — to form a habit which I know does 
no one any good and is the cause of great injury to 
many. It is with the hope that I may not only coun- 
teract the unfavorable influence which the discovery 
of my weakness might exert among you, but even do 
much positive good besides, that I decided to make it 
the subject of our Talk this morning. 

I have at least this advantage, boys : I can speak 
from actual personal experience. I wish you to observe 
in the mean time that all that I say in regard to the for- 
mation and growth of the habit and the increasing dif- 
ficulty of relinquishing it applies with equal force to 



THE DOCTOR IS FAIRLY CAUGHT. 87 

any other habit. So we may consider our Talk to be 
upon the general subject of 

HABITS, 

illustrated by one of them. None of you may ever 
fall into this particular one, — I sincerely hope you may 
not, — but all of you have already formed others, good 
and bad, and as you grow older you will form still 
others. In fact, the greater part of all we do is the 
result of habits. 

I see, by the way, that I was wrong in my conjecture. 
A few tell-tale smiles and expressive glances show that 
some of you have already begun to forge the same 
chains about you that I am wearing. Well, boys, let 
me assure you that you will not always feel as compla- 
cent over them as you evidently feel now. The time 
will come when some of you, if you keep on as you 
have begun, will feel as I feel at this moment, — willing 
to make almost any sacrifice to break your fetters, al- 
most any sacrifice short of — breaking them. 

And, girls, though none of you may ever be tempted 
to smoke cigarettes or to color a meerschaum, yet there 
are plenty of other temptations that you must meet. 
So if you mentally substitute them for tobacco you may 
profit by this Talk as well as the boys. 

To illustrate the subject, I shall give you now and 
then choice bits of my own experience with the fasci- 
nating tyrant, which will perhaps help you better to 
judge for yourselves whether it is worth while to culti- 
vate his acquaintance or to let him alone. 

I learned to smoke when I was at Grantham Academy 
fitting for college. I don't remember that my conscience 
rebelled in the least at that time. I don't think the 
question as to whether I was doing right or wrong even 
entered my mind. I saw other boys puffing their cigars, 
and, partly from the instinct of imitation, which leads 
us all more or less slavishly to " follow the fashion," 



88 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

partly because it seemed manly, debonair, I heroically 
endured the agonies of initiation into the practice. 
"Agonies" is none too strong a word, as I fear some of 
you already know from your own experience. Boys, 
ought not that very experience to teach us what a ter- 
rible violation of nature we were committing ? What 
but a deadly poison attacking the very citadel of life 
could blanch our faces, cover our brows with cold sweat, 
and send that mortal sickness through our vitals ? 
True, Nature speedily adapts herself to the new condi- 
tion ; that is, she no longer warns us so energetically 
of the true character of the enemy we have admitted 
within our walls. The outside sentinel has been slain ! 
But the enemy is no less deadly for that. 

Isabelle Anthony. This morning's " Freetown Pa- 
triot" tells of a young man, a graduate of this school, 
who died a day or two ago of "tobacco-heart." 

Lucy Snow. And it was only a week ago, I think, 
that I read of another who became insane from exces- 
sive cigarette smoking. 

Archibald Watson. If the tobacco habit keeps on at 
this rate, it bids fair to become almost as fatal as tight- 
lacing. [Laughter. ~] 

Susan Perkins. Or champagne and absinthe drink- 
ing. 

Frederick Fox. Or low necks and pneumonia. 

Dr. Dix. Both sexes have their full burden of re- 
sponsibility for suicidal practices. As I said, in our 
onslaught upon tobacco we will include all bad habits 
and practices. 

The authorities of the Naval Academy at Annapolis 
tell us that an appallingly large percentage of their 
applicants for admission are rejected because their con- 
stitutions have become irreparably injured by smoking. 

Julia Taylor. What a frightful sound there is in 
that phrase " tobacco-heart " ! It quite makes my blood 
run cold. 



THE DOCTOR IS FAIRLY CAUGHT. 89 

Dr. Dlx. Indeed, it has a frightful sound ! How it 
brings up before the imagination the human heart, that 
wonderful organ, so gigantic in its power, so delicate in 
its construction, struggling like a bird in the coils of 
some venomous reptile ! Xo wonder your blood runs 
cold as you realize its true meaning. And yet so 
mighty is the force of the habit, so completely do men 
become enslaved by it, that, with the L full realization of 
its evils and dangers, they scarcely make an effort to 
escape. I once heard a brilliant young physician des- 
cant volubly upon the nerve-and-heart-paralyzing ef- 
fects of tobacco. " In no other form/ 7 said he, " is the 
poison so effective, so penetrating, as in that of smoke." 
He then slowly filled his' mouth from the cigar that 
he had been puffing all through his talk, and blew it 
through his white handkerchief. " There," he said, ex- 
hibiting with evident satisfaction the deep brown stain 
which the smoke had left, " that is pure nicotine, one 
of the deadliest poisons known to my profession. Im- 
agine that in contact with the mucous membrane of my 
mouth and lungs by the hour, as it was for a second 
with the threads of my handkerchief ! " 

Knowing its nature and effect so thoroughly, why 
did n't he spurn it from him as he would have spurned 
any other poison ? Ah, none but the slave of habit 
knows the completeness of its mastery ! 

Mary Rice. I don't think we girls are in danger of 
ever forming habits that will affect us in that way. 

Dr. Dlx. I trust you never may. But there are 
other drugs even more disastrous in their effects than 
tobacco, to whose slavery thousands of both sexes fall 
victims. Let me remind you all again, boys and girls 
alike, that, though I am speaking of one habit in par- 
ticular, what I say applies with even greater force to 
many others, — in a measure to all. Ab uno discite 
omnes. 1 

1 From one learn all. 



XVIII. 
THE CHAINS OF HABIT. 

Frederick Fox. Dr. Dix, are the habits you spoke of 
last Wednesday morning immoral simply because they 
injure the health ? 

Dr. Dix. That reason alone would be enough ; but 
there are other reasons. What are some of them ? 

Isabelle Anthony. They are an annoyance to our 
neighbors. 

Dr. Dix. Some of them most certainly are : perhaps 
if we should consider further we should find it to be 
the case with all. 

Joseph Cracklin. So are some things we have a per- 
fect right to do. 

Dr. Dix. What, for instance ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Well, building a house and cutting 
off our neighbor's view. 

Dr. Dix. A more fitting comparison would be, build- 
ing a stable or some other nuisance next his house, and 
thus interfering both with his health and his comfort. 

Susan Perkins. Yes, sir ; and the law often recog- 
nizes that as wrong and forbids it. 

Lucy Snow. Just as the notice is posted up, " No 
Smoking." 

Dr. Dix. A most excellent illustration. Well, give 
us another reason why the tobacco habit, for instance, 
is immoral. 

Florence Hill. It is filthy ; and cleanliness is a duty. 

Dr. Dix. Good. And why is cleanliness a duty ? 

Florence Hill. Because it is necessary not only to 
our own health and comfort, but also to that of our 
neighbors. 



THE CHAINS OF HABIT. 91 

Dr. Dix. Necessary to the health and comfort of 
both mind and body. It is a duty, like all other duties, 
springing from a principle of right. We should be 
cleanly, as that mirror should be bright. We should be 
cleanly, healthy, and comfortable, as we should be truth- 
ful, honorable, and unselfish. Now, let us have another 
reason why the habits we are discussing are immoral. 

James Murphy. Because other people may follow 
our example. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; I have already alluded to that most 
unhappy consequence of our misdoing. If for no other 
reason, when that danger comes, we should strike for 
freedom. 

Frederick Fox. Suppose the injury to our own health 
were the only objection to the habit, would it be im- 
moral ? Was it wrong, for instance, for Robinson Cru- 
soe to smoke his pipe ? 

Dr. Dix. That is a very interesting question. When 
Robinson Crusoe had no neighbors to injure or annoy 
or set a bad example to, how was it possible for him to 
do wrong ? 

Archibald Watson. But he did have neighbors, — 
his cats, goats, and dogs. 

Dr. Dix \_smiling']. None of them would be likely to 
follow his example, in smoking at least : as I remarked 
some time ago, most animals are too sensible ; it is only 
the one that most resembles man in shape that ever 
imitates him in this folly. But, granting that Robin- 
son did his full duty to his dumb companions, what 
other duties devolved upon him ? 

Julia Taylor. As has already been said, it was his 
duty to be cleanly. 

Dr. Dix. Yes. Go on. 

Helen Sawyer. It was his duty to be as cheerful and 
contented as possible. 

Dr. Dix. But why, since there was no one to be 
affected by his sullenness or discontent ? 



92 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Helen Sawyer. There was himself to be affected by 
it. 

Dr. Dix. Had n't he the right to do as he chose with 
himself ? 

Helen Sawyer. No, Dr. Dix ; because he did n't cre- 
ate himself. 

Dr. Dix. Eight. But even suppose, if such a thing 
is conceivable, that he did create himself; would he 
then have had the right to do what he pleased with his 
own handiwork ? 

Helen Sawyer. I think not, unless he pleased to do 
the best ; for the best only is duty, as you have said so 
many times. 

Dr. Dix. I am glad the lesson has been so well 
learned. His best was to cherish mind and body to the 
very utmost of his ability, to be grateful for the bless- 
ings still remaining to him, which, as you remember, 
he so dutifully offset against his privations, striking 
the balance in favor of his blessings. 

Let us now return to the particular subject of last 
Wednesday, in regard to which I have somewhat more 
to say. A young man asked me how it is that men can 
use tobacco as they do without dying, if it is such a 
deadly poison. He told me of his grandfather, who has 
used it for a't least sixty years, and who yet seems to be 
strong and healthy in spite of it. 

I have known even more remarkable cases of tena- 
cious vitality than that. I am personally acquainted 
with a man who carried a bullet in his brain for several 
years after the war, and for much of that time seemed 
as well as ever. Does this prove that bullets are not 
deadly ? Habitual arsenic-eaters have been known to 
survive single doses which would kill a dozen people 
with systems in the normal condition. Would you 
argue, therefore, that arsenic is not a deadly poison ? 
The life force seems well-nigh inexhaustible sometimes. 
If it were not so, neither human nor animal races could 






THE CHAINS OF HABIT. 93 

survive the terrible strains they are all subjected to at 
certain times in their life history. I have no doubt 
whatever that in the case of the young man's grand- 
father it is as he says, and that he is as strong and 
well as he seems. Doubtless nature endowed him ori~ 
ginally with very great strength of constitution, which 
has probably been still further favored by an invigorat- 
ing out-of-door occupation ; but it is pretty certain that 
he could not have kept up the habit through all those 
years as our young cigarette smokers practice it to-day : 
he would doubtless have died long ago of a tobacco- 
heart.^ We must not lay too much stress on the fact 
that there are people who arrive at old age in spite of 
this and other destructive habits. No one knows how 
much better and happier lives they might have lived, 
or how much healthier and stronger they might have 
been to-day. Especially no one knows how many 
others of feebler vitality these same habits have laid in 
untimely graves. 

I have no wish to exaggerate the evils and dangers I 
am urging you to avoid. Besides the moral wrong I 
should commit in doiug so, — if it were done know- 
ingly, — I should defeat my own object. Your own 
observation would soon reveal the exaggeration, and 
lead you, perhaps, even farther from the truth in the 
opposite direction. 

Let us admit, therefore, that multitudes of men in- 
dulge in the use of tobacco with apparent impunity; 
yet reason tells us that the impunity is only apparent, 
that the penalty is exactly in proportion to the degree 
in which nature is violated; and the solemn, indispu- 
table fact is, that countless numbers are most terribly 
injured by the habit. Like all other life-sapping prac- 
tices, it is especially disastrous to the young and unde- 
veloped. I see no reason to doubt the highest medical 
authorities, who declare that the habit of cigarette 
smoking, as indulged in by the boys and young men of 



94 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

to-day, is capable, in a few generations, of making the 
strongest race on earth the feeblest. 

There is no exaggeration, boys, in these statements. 
Let me make one more : The easiest way to escape this 
or any other bad habit is, never to form it. The old 
smoker is bound by chains and fetters of steel : he can 
escape only, if at all, by a long and painful struggle. 
You whose fresh young lips have never been contami- 
nated never need make a struggle. You are forever 
free, if you choose, without an uneasy moment. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. I never supposed that it was really 
painful to leave off smoking. 

Dr. Dix. Painful ! Is it painful to feel an uncon- 
querable craving for something that is easily w r ithin 
your reach, and yet resolutely let it alone ? to feel this 
craving growing stronger and stronger the longer it is 
ungratified, for days, weeks perhaps ? to be unable by 
reason of the torturing hunger to remain at ease in any 
place or at any occupation long at a time ? No one can 
know what it is until he has experienced it. It is the 
regular and natural effect of stopping the habitual use 
of any poisonous stimulant. Inveterate users of alcohol, 
opium, and other still more powerful agents which I 
will not name, often become raving maniacs when de- 
prived of what has been their chief necessity. The 
same result has been known to follow the sudden de- 
privation of tobacco. 

The old proverb, " An ounce of prevention is worth a 
pound of cure," applies with peculiar force to the for- 
mation of this and all other bad habits. If I should 
say what I have been saying to you to a roomful of old 
smokers, I should expect that my words would accom- 
plish little or nothing. The probability is that the 
majority of my hearers would already know and admit 
the truth of all I have said. Yet, like the young doctor 
with his cigar and white handkerchief, they would go 
on poisoning themselves with calm and deliberate un- 
concern. 



THE CHAINS OF HABIT. 95 

But with you I hope and expect that the result will 
be different. You are as yet unscathed, — most of you 
at least, I hope ; you have scarcely a battle to wage. If 
any of you, with full realization of what you are doing, 
deliberately sell yourselves into the abject slavery which 
I have been describing, you will richly deserve all you 
will suffer. If I had realized what I was doing when I 
formed the habit, I firmly believe that not even army 
life would have betrayed me into it. 

There is a question which you have all mentally 
asked ; only your politeness and respect have prevented 
your asking it aloud : " Dr. Dix, why don't you leave 
off your cigar now ?" 

Well, I don't say that I shall not. I have tried sev- 
eral times and failed. That is a humiliating confession 
to make, is it not ? In other respects I believe I am 
not wanting in resolution. Heretofore, however, I have 
not been conscious that my bad habit has injured any 
one but myself. That is wrong, I have said and still 
say, but as I have indulged in moderation I have felt 
that I could afford the tax on my vitality. Now, how- 
ever, I have a new incentive : I am forced to choose 
between setting you a good or a bad example. There 
can be no possible uncertainty in my mind as to which 
is my duty. Nevertheless I shall have a hard struggle. 
May that struggle of mine be a salutary lesson to all of 
you, and may the victory which I hope to win be a still, 
more precious lesson, teaching you never to despair, 
whatever bad habit you may have fallen into, when you 
may see that even the tobacco habit of thirty years' 
standing may be broken. 



XIX. 
THE ALCOHOL HABIT. 

Dr. Dix. The tobacco habit, which we have been 
considering at some length, naturally suggests its kin- 
dred vice, the alcohol habit. 

You are all familiar enough with the story of its 
ravages : how it changes gardens to deserts, homes of 
thrift, comfort, and happiness to abodes of wretchedness 
and want; how it fills prisons, hospitals, and alms- 
houses ; how, in short, it ruins body and soul alike, 
transforming a man to a fiend, maniac, or imbecile, and 
bringing him to an untimely grave. You have heard all 
this from your earliest childhood ; and although not 
every man who takes his social glass pays the full 
penalty of his daring, you know well that there are 
countless multitudes who do pay the penalty. What 
are the temptations that lead men deliberately into a 
habit whose possible results are so universally recog- 
nized ? It is principally of these that I wish to speak, 
for it is only with these that any of you can be per- 
sonally concerned at this stage of your lives. 

Tell me, boys, what are some of the inducements that 
tempt a young man to take his first glass ? 

Archibald Watson. His companions invite him, and 
he is ashamed to refuse. 

Dr. Dix. Ashamed ! Of what ? Of refusing what he 
does not want, and what they know he does not want ? 

Archibald Watson. He is ashamed to have them 
know that he does not want it, — to have them think he 
is a " tenderfoot." 

Dr. Dix. That means, I suppose, one who is not, at 



THE ALCOHOL HABIT. 97 

least, an incipient drunkard. So a taste for whiskey is 
a thing to be proud of, is it ? 

Archibald Watson. It is not a thing that I should be 
proud of, but the young man we are speaking of and 
his comrades might be proud of it. 

Dr. Dix. I did not suppose you were speaking for 
yourself. I presume gambling is a thing to be proud of 
among blacklegs, and thieving among pickpockets. The 
way to escape the influence of such public sentiment is 
obvious and easy. 

Archibald Watson. To find different society ? 

Dr. Dix. Even so. 

Joseph Cracklin \_with an air of resentment]. The 
young man's comrades may be neither blacklegs nor 
pickpockets ; they may be only a party of gay young 
fellows, who like a good time. 

Dr. Dix. We will speak of that " good time " pre- 
sently. They may be honest enough, as Cracklin says, 
so far as money is concerned, but what are they doing 
to the young man ? They might far better rob him of 
his last penny and leave him otherwise unharmed. 

Joseph Cracklin. They probably don't think of the 
harm they are doing to him. At any rate, they don't 
try to make him any worse off than they are themselves. 

Dr. Dix. No ; they probably " don't think." That 
has been their trouble from the first. But we will let 
them go their way and turn our attention to him. Sup- 
pose he should be manly and sensible enough to estimate 
things at their true value, — his own safety of body and 
soul and right for its own sake on the one hand, and 
their passing approval on the other. What then ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Why, if he thought there was any 
real danger of his becoming a drunkard — 

Dr. Dix. If he thought ! Does n't he know there 
is ? What right has he to believe there is no danger 
for him in what has destroyed so many millions, none of 
whom were any more anxious to be destroyed than he ? 



98 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Joseph Cracklin. If he thought enough about it, of 
course he would refuse. 

Dr. Dix. Well, it is a matter worth thinking about. 
What would be the worst possible consequence of his 
refusal ? 

Joseph Cracklin. They would set him down as a 
muff, a fellow with no fun in him. 

Dr. Dix. And perhaps might find him so unconge- 
nial as to cut his acquaintance ? 

Josepjh Cracklin. Perhaps. 

Dr. Dix. A terrible fate, indeed ! 

Joseph Cracklin. They 'd treat him civilly, of course, 
whenever they met him. 

Dr. Dix. But wouldn't honor him with invitations 
to their convivial dinners ? 

Joseph Cracklin. As he had already declined that 
sort of thing, they would probably think it of no use. 

Dr. Dix. And would that be likely to make him in- 
consolable ? 

Joseph Cracklin. A fellow does n't like to lose his 
friends. 

Dr. Dix. Nor would he. You make a great mistake, 
Cracklin. They would do a great deal more than treat 
him civilly. There is not one of those gay young fel- 
lows, whose friendship is worth a straw, that would not 
secretly, if not openly, admire the courage and indepen- 
dence that dared to say No, — not one of them that 
would not in his heart despise the imbecility, folly, and 
cowardice that would accept possible ruin for fear of 
ridicule or unpopularity. Men always like a backbone 
better than a string. It is human nature to despise 
those over whom victory is easily gained. When a false 
friend is endeavoring to persuade you to your own disad- 
vantage, yield, and you win only his contempt ; firmly 
refuse, and he at once acknowledges you as his superior. 
I repeat, not one of those gay young fellows that would 
not in his heart admire the exhibition of strength, 



THE ALCOHOL HABIT. 99 

courage, and independence, and most heartily wish that 
he possessed the same noble qualities. 

Joseph Cracklin. But they would n't really like him, 
for all that, because they could n't have any fun with 
him. 

Dr. Dix. Hold ; let us see about that. Fun is the 
natural exercise of wit and light-heartedness, is it not ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Yes, Dr. Dix. 

Dr. Dix. And wine and whiskey make men witty ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Sometimes, not always. 

Dr. Dix. There is no wit or humor except what alco- 
hol makes ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Oh, I did n't say so. 

Dr. Dix. Then there are people who can have fun 
without getting drunk ? How do they compare with 
those who cannot ? 

Joseph Cracklin. I never thought of it in that light 
before. I don't want you to think I am in favor of 
drinking. 

Dr. Dix. None of our talk is supposed to be per- 
sonal. Scholars, don't you think a man who cannot be 
funny or light-hearted unless he is drunk has rather a 
poor claim to either wit or jovial spirits ? 

Chorus. Yes, sir. 

Dr. Dix. And what is a company of young men who 
acknowledge by their acts that they cannot enjoy them- 
selves without the aid of alcohol but a sorry, stupid 
set, after all ? Compare them with an equal number of 
bright young fellows whose hearts are always light with 
health and a clean conscience, whose brains are unbe- 
fogged and unparalyzed by poison of any kind. The 
wit of these, inspired only by the wine of native genius 
and good spirits, sparkles like the pure mountain brook- 
let laughing in the sunlight ; the wit of those, fuming 
from the cellar, is like the blue flame whose fitful gleam 
only shows how heart, brain, and body are slowly but 
surely burning to ashes ! 



XX. 
BENEFICENT LIONS AND TIGERS. 

Dr. Dix. Can any of you tell me how it is that alco- 
hol — not always, indeed, as Cracklin has well said, but 
sometimes — makes men witty and light-hearted, coura- 
geous, enthusiastic, strong for a sudden effort ? 

Jonathan Tower. It stimulates them. 

Dr. Dix. That simply repeats the proposition with- 
out explaining it. 

Isabelle Anthony. It makes the blood circulate faster, 
and it is the blood that sustains all kinds of action in 
our bodies. 

Dr. Dix. So healthy exercise in the fresh air quick- 
ens the circulation. 

Isabelle Anthony. But that is a natural stimulus, 
whereas alcohol is not. 

Dr. Dix. True. Now I will tell you how alcohol 
stimulates the circulation of the blood. The blood cir- 
culates in our bodies almost exactly as the water cir- 
culates in the water-works of a great city. Let us see 
with what minuteness the parallel may be drawn. 
First, there is the great engine that raises the water in 
the standpipe or reservoir, and thus gives it "head." 
What is that in the body ? 

Chorus. The heart. 

Dr. Dix. From the standpipe or reservoir the water 
is forced into the mains branching through the streets 
like — 

Chorus. The arteries. 

Dr. Dix. From the mains it is carried by service- 
pipes into houses, manufactories, and workshops. These 
service-pipes correspond to — 



BEXEFICEXT LIOXS AXD TIGERS. 101 

Chorus. The smaller arteries. 

Dr. Dix. Observe that up to this point neither water 
nor blood has done any work. In the houses and manu- 
factories the faucets are turned as the water is needed. 
Then and there it does its work, not in the pipes, but 
after it has left them. What are the faucets which 
%i turn on " the blood, and where in the body does it do 
its work ? • 

Frank Williams [hesitatingly']. The veins ? 

Dr. Dix. Xo ; the blood enters the veins after it has 
done its work, just as in the city the water, having done 
its work, enters the — 

Chorus. Waste-pipes. 

Dr. Dix. In the body, however, the blood enters 
these " waste-pipes " only to be purified and renewed. 
What lie between the arteries and the veins that corre- 
spond to the kitchens, bathrooms, laundries, and work- 
shops of the city ? 

Chorus. The capillaries. 

Dr. Dix. Yes. It is in the capillary network that 
the blood does all its work, and thus enables our bodies 
and brains to act. 

Now, in the manufactories, kitchens, workshops, etc., 
of the city the water is turned on only as it is needed. 
Suppose, however, a horde of reckless vandals, being 
admitted to the city, should force their way into the 
various apartments where work is harmoniously in 
progress, and turn on the water in full stream every- 
where at once. That would be a quickening of the cir- 
culation indeed ! Suppose, moreover, that the mis- 
chievous strangers should stand their ground, forcibly 
preventing the faucets from being closed. There would 
be plenty of action for a while, though anything but 
harmonious action. But it would only be for a while : 
the water, that at first quickened and strengthened ac- 
tion, would soon clog and drown it. After the vandals 
had been finally driven out and the faucets had been 



102 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

closed, one by one, and after the surplus water had 
slowly drained away, things would gradually return to 
something like their former condition, save here and 
there, where the sadden flood had wrought irreparable 
damage. 

This, I am assured, is a perfect illustration of the 
physiological action of alcohol. Nature opens the little 
entrances to the capillaries ©nly wide enough to admit 
the blood as it is needed for the normal action of our 
various organs ; but when the vandal King Alcohol is 
admitted, he goes raging through the body and brain, 
paralyzing the capillaries, and " turning on " the blood 
in rushing, drowning, maddening torrents that, in spite 
of subsequent slow repairs, leave here and there irre- 
parable injury. 

And that is how it makes a man sometimes witty, 
light-hearted, and energetic, but oftener silly and absurd. 
No w r onder he is absurd with all that chaos raging 
within. Think of the suddenly flooded kitchens and 
workshops of his poor body and brain ! 

But, alas, silliness and absurdity are not the only or 
the worst effects of the internal deluge. Too often it 
drowns reason and conscience together, and makes the 
man a maniac, a suicide, a murderer. 

Joseph Cracklin. Alcohol sometimes does good in 
the human system, does n't it ? 

Dr. Dix. That is a question for the physicians to 
answer. If my doctor should prescribe it, I suppose I 
should take it. If I felt called upon to reason upon 
the propriety of his prescription, I should assume that 
Nature did not open my capillaries wide enough to meet 
a sudden emergency, and that Alcohol was sent to help 
her, not as a vandal horde, but as a quiet, orderly mes- 
senger. 

Frederick Fox. Should you never feel justified in 
taking it except upon a physician's prescription ? 

Br. Dix. If I should be bitten by a venomous ser- 



BENEFICENT LIONS AND TIGERS. 103 

pent and could get at a jug of whiskey, I should drink 
all I could possibly swallow, precisely as, if the whole 
city were on fire, the obvious remedy would be to fight 
conflagration with flood. But I have not been speak- 
ing of the use of alcohol in emergencies. My subject 
has been, not alcohol, but the alcohol habit. I have 
shown what it does for the individual. 

Does the alcohol habit ever do any good ? Political 
economists and biologists speak of one of its effects on 
the human race, which we must acknowledge, in the 
long run, to be a benefit. I will illustrate it by another 
comparison. 

What is known as the survival of the fittest is one of 
the two great principles upon which depends the devel- 
opment of the races. In the struggle for existence, in 
both the animal and the vegetable kingdoms, the strong 
crowd out or prey upon the weak ; those best adapted 
to their environments survive ; the rest perish. Among 
the carnivores, for instance, the strongest and the most 
courageous destroy their antagonists and are left to 
feed upon the feebler races. Among these latter the 
strongest and most active and cunning only escape. 
Thus only the most highly developed of all races are 
left to transmit their superiority to succeeding genera- 
tions. 

Frederick Fox. Has n't sheer good luck sometimes 
as much to do with their escaping as their own strength 
or cunning ? 

Dr. Dix. You must learn to generalize, my boy. A 
few exceptional cases do not invalidate the general law. 

Among civilized men there are so few that perform 
the function which beasts of prey perform among the 
animal races that the economy of nature demands some 
other agents to suppress the inferior elements of soci- 
ety and leave the earth a heritage for the superior. 
The crowding-out process operates to a certain extent, 
it is true ; but that alone would be insufficient, at least 



104 CHARACTER BUILDING, 

until the world becomes vastly more densely populated 
than it is to-day. 

Jane Simpson. Would it be sufficient in such a city 
as London or Paris ? 

Dr. Dix. The fearful rate of mortality among the 
lowest classes in such centres of population is a most 
striking illustration of what I have been saying. It is 
not due to the crowding-out process alone, however, 
even there : the other agents which Nature calls to her 
aid in securing the survival of the fittest among men 
work still more terrible havoc even in London and 
Paris. But the work of these other agents is not con- 
fined to densely populated centres, which, after all, in- 
clude but a comparatively small part of the world's 
population. They operate in country as well as in 
town, where there is plenty of room and provision for 
all as well as where the feeble must necessarily go un- 
der. What are these other agents ? 

Florence Hill. I suppose the alcohol habit is one of 
them. 

Dr. Dix. And all other self-destructive habits. It is 
these chiefly which do for the human race what beasts 
of prey do for the brute creation. Does it not really 
seem as if it were the deliberate policy of conscious Na- 
ture thus to implant in the most undesirable elements 
of the human race the means of their own extermina- 
tion ? The worst criminals are the shortest-lived class 
on earth, slain by one another's murderous hands and 
by the laws they violate, but in enormously greater 
multitudes by their own base appetites and passions. 
It is not crime alone that is thus held in check and pre- 
vented from overrunning the fair earth ; weakness and 
inferiority in general are, as a rule, accompanied by 
that moral weakness, that lack of self-command, which 
makes them an easy prey to the cleansing besom of 
Nature. 

Thus, for the good of mankind at large, as I have 



BENEFICENT LIONS AND TIGERS. 105 

shown, the wicked and the weak are doomed not to live 
out half their days. When, therefore, you are tempted 
to fall into the alcohol or any other self-destructive 
habit, ask yourself what there is in you or about you 
that should lead Xature to wish to exterminate you and 
your type from earth. 

Julia Taylor. But it is not always the naturally bad 
or weak that form these self-destructive habits. Do we 
not often see and hear of the strongest, the most gener- 
ous and amiable, the most brilliant, falling victims ? 

Dr. Dix. Once more I say, you must learn to gener- 
alize. -When a multitude of ruffianly rioters are raging 
through the streets, the artillery mows them down with- 
out regard to an occasional noble exception that may be 
among them. So Xature's laws must be enforced. But 
even in the cases you refer to there must alwaj^s be 
some weakness joined with the strength, the amiability, 
and brilliancy, — moral weakness, if no other, — the 
perpetuation of which w r ould not be good for our race. 
No drunkard, opium-eater, or any other species of self- 
indulgent suicide ever died whose mental, moral, and 
physical make-up, as a whole, it would be for the advan- 
tage of mankind to perpetuate. So, I repeat, if you are 
tempted to fall into any of these bad habits, ask your- 
self why Mature wants to get rid of you. 



XXI. 

TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. 

Dr. Dix. Now let us talk of some of the habits we 
wish to cultivate. 

In estimating the values of things, the very first 
question we ask is, Are they what they seem ? Is the 
glittering yellow mineral gold or only iron pyrites ? is 
the brilliant that flashes in the light a diamond or only 
paste ? is the smiling, benevolent face that appeals to 
our love and confidence an open window of the soul or 
only a mask? in short, is what we see and hear the 
truth or a lie ? This is to us the first and most impor- 
tant test of the values of either men or things : hence I 
shall place at the head of the list 

THE HABIT OF TRUTHFULNESS, 

in word, act, and appearance. 

In a previous Talk I remarked that things always do 
their duty. With some rare exceptions, of which I shall 
speak in due time, things always tell the truth. Sup- 
pose it were not so ; suppose we lived in a world not 
only of artificial but of natural shams, — mountains, 
forests, and seas not really mountains, forests, and seas, 
but only seeming so ; what appeared, for instance, a 
pleasant, inviting field turning out a frightful precipice 
as we entered it. 

Sally Jones. That would be like some fairy tales I 
have read. 

Dr. Dix. And did you ever think you would like to 
live in the fairyland you read about ? 



TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. 107 

Sally Jones. I have often thought how delightful it 
would be. 

Dr. Dix. "What, never know at what moment the 
pleasant person with whom you were talking would 
turn into a hideous dragon, or your magnificent palace 
into a wretched hovel ? always expecting to be caught 
up into the air or sent wandering through caverns at the 
bottom of the sea ? liable at any instant to be trans- 
formed into a mouse or an elephant at the pleasure of 
the wicked magician who lived next door ? 

Sally Jones. But there would be a good fairy who 
would be more powerful than the wicked magician, and 
she would turn me back into a princess. 

Dr. Dix. And the poor toad that had befriended you 
into a splendid prince, eh ? But even then there would 
always be other wicked magicians, for if they were all 
dead there would be nothing more for the good fairies 
to do, and it would soon cease to be fairyland. 

I sincerely hope the time will never come when fairy- 
land will cease to exist — in the imagination. The de- 
struction of Jack the Giant-Killer, Santa Claus, Titania, 
Thor, Juno, and Jupiter would be an irreparable loss to 
mankind. It would be to the world of thought what 
the destruction of the blue sky (which you know is only 
a beautiful unreality) would be to the world of sight. 
But all these delightful personages and their delightful 
habitations are good only in their proper sphere, the 
imagination. If Miss Jones will reflect a little, I think 
she will decide that the real world is better to live in 
than fairyland would be, — the ground she walks on 
real solid ground, and not merely a thin shell covering 
vast subterranean caves, into which the next step may 
precipitate her ; the water she drinks real water, and 
not a potent charm that may transform her into a mar- 
ble statue. 

Yes, scholars, most happily for us, things tell the 
truth, — they are what they seem. 



108 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Helen Mar. Longfellow says quite the opposite. 

Dr. Dix. Ah ! in that line Longfellow refers to our 
misinterpretation of things. It is only of the dead soul 
that slumbers that he is speaking. To all who are alive 
and awake life is not an empty dream, and things are 
what they seem, earnest realities. 

We are talking just now, however, of things in a more 
material sense. Our earthly habitation, happily for us, 
is not a fairyland of gorgeous uncertainty, but a well- 
ordered reality, to which our senses are adapted by a 
corresponding truthfulness. I remember once I was 
standing on a railway while a train of cars was ap- 
proaching. As the huge, thundering mass came nearer 
I stepped off the track upon another, and while I stood 
there gazing a thought, passed through my mind some- 
what like this : My eyes tell me what track the train is 
on. Suppose my eyes should deceive me, that the train 
should be really on the other track. My life would then 
be only for a few seconds longer. But I felt no doubt. 
Although the engineer spied me and sounded his shrill 
whistle, I stood my ground in perfect confidence that 
my eyes were telling me the truth ; and presently both 
eyes and ears told me that the train had passed on, leav- 
ing me in safety. Now, the sense of sight is only one 
means of obtaining information ; the speech of my fel- 
low-men is another. Both are valuable in exact pro- 
portion to the confidence I can feel in their truthfulness. 
But, alas, the two are never placed on the same footing. 
Every one says, " I shall believe my own eyes rather 
than what any one tells me," thus confessing the supe- 
riority of nature to man. 

If men were as truthful as their eyes or as the rest 
of nature, the gift of speech would be of immeasurably 
greater value than it is. So great is its depreciation, 
however, that it has given rise to the common saying 
which I have already quoted several times, " Words are 
cheap." If not truthful, they are far worse than cheap, 



TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. 109 

— they not only have no value, but they are a positive 
curse, like the counterfeits that vitiate the currency of 
a nation. A bank-note has no value save as it repre- 
sents value ; and its representative value is deteriorated 
in exact proportion to the degree of uncertainty in re- 
gard to its redemption. This uncertainty may be due 
to either or both of two causes : first, the untrustwor- 
thiness of the government or corporation which issues 
the note ; and, secondly, the degree to which success- 
ful counterfeiting may be carried. The government 
of which we Americans are so justly proud is so ab- 
solutely trustworthy, and there is so little successful 
counterfeiting, that its notes are equivalent, and gen- 
erally preferred, to gold. 

Suppose all Americans were as honorable in every 
respect as their government is in its financial dealings, 
what a nation we should be ! Think of receiving the 
words of a stranger with the implicit confidence with 
which we receive his bank-notes ! Ah, then words 
would be no longer cheap. 

Like the bank-note, the value of words is purely re- 
presentative ; but unlike the bank-note there is no great 
centre of responsibility. Each individual is his own 
bank, and his notes are good or not according to his in- 
dividual reputation for honor and veracity. Let one of 
his notes go to protest and there is an immediate depre- 
ciation of all the rest. Let one after another be unre- 
deemed and finally they are all waste paper. 

As the thorough business man has an almost intuitive 
knowledge of the true value of the commercial paper 
which passes through his hands, so we all instinctively 
estimate the value of words by their source. " TTho 
says so ? " we ask. " If it is A it must be true, but if 
it is B, — ah ! that is a very different matter." 

One of the things we prize most in life is our power 
and influence over our fellow-men. We cannot all be 
great leaders, but there is one way in which the weakest 



110 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

of us may be strong : let it be known that every note 
we issue is as good as solid gold, that every statement 
we make is the exact truth, and we shall exercise a 
sway in comparison with which the power of the most 
brilliant liar is impotence. Such a reputation is a 
priceless treasure. As a successful old merchant re- 
marked to me, it is the most valuable capital with 
which a man can start in business. Mark, I am not 
speaking now of the real character which alone can 
secure the reputation, — that is altogether above price ; 
I am speaking only of the reputation itself. All men, 
whatever their own reputation for truthfulness, fully 
appreciate its importance in others. With one accord 
they will prefer him whose representations need no dis- 
count, be he the architect who is to build their houses 
or the boy who is to carry their messages. 

Jonathan Tower. You said, " whatever their own 
reputation for truthfulness." Why should not men 
appreciate its importance in themselves as well as in 
others ? 

Dr. Dix. Because they do not always recognize the 
fact which I have stated, that the real character alone 
can secure the reputation, — the lasting reputation I 
mean, of course. Everybody thinks he reads others 
more clearly than they read him. This is easily ac- 
counted for when we consider that while each one 
knows not only what he himself says, but also what he 
thinks, he knows only what others say. If any one of 
you has been in the habit of thinking himself the one 
mortal blessed with unerring perception, insight, intu- 
ition into the character of others, let him think so no 
longer : let him remember that he is only one of an innu- 
merable species, that it is more than probable that there 
are others quite as sharp as he is, — possibly sharper. 

Mankind seems gullible enough, it is true ; but, as in 
almost all other respects, mankind is not what it seems. 
It is only things that are as they seem. Many rascals 



TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. Ill 

beside those of the notorious Tweed ring have found 
this out too late. Too late it has dawned upon them 
that the final crash was but the inevitable result of the 
slow undermining of the confidence of their fellow-men, 
who for years, perhaps, showed no outward sign. Too 
late they find that their boasted cunning has been like 
that of the ostrich which, thrusting its stupid head 
into the bushes, fancies its great, awkward, ugly body 
unseen. 

Helen Mar. It seems to me, Dr. Dix, that there 
must be exceptions. Is not the community often star- 
tled by the sudden revelation of wickedness altogether 
unsuspected before ? 

Dr. Dix. Altogether unsuspected by the community, 
perhaps, because the community may not have been in 
close enough relations with the perpetrators to be in 
any sense acquainted with them. The great majority 
of people whom we call our acquaintances have only a 
bowing acquaintance with us. I do not claim that such 
comparative strangers always or often read us aright. 
This may form the subject of another Talk. But I do 
not believe there was ever a thorough-going rascal whose 
true character was not divined by some of those whom 
he least feared. In many of the cases to which refer- 
ence has been made, the " startling wickedness " has 
been the result of undermined moral strength less sus- 
pected by the criminal himself than by those around 
him. It has been like the sudden giving way of the 
Johnstown dam, slowly but surely eaten away in its 
foundations, which had seemed firmer and safer to the 
proprietors than to the keener eyes of less interested — 
or, as it proved, far more interested — observers. 

It is good for us all to know that, if we are not al- 
ways justly estimated by others, we are generally better 
known by them than we are by ourselves. It is useless 
for a confirmed liar to try to deceive his intimates ; and 
if he could know how clearly his false heart is seen 



112 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

even by comparative strangers, he would be appalled. 
With all our mistaken reading of one another, we err 
least, I think, in our estimate of one another's truth- 
fulness. And with what minuteness we form that es- 
timate, all unconsciously too ! How easily we could 
arrange a table of percentages attached to the names of 
all our acquaintances in definite order, from the one 
hundred per cent of our hero and our heroine down to 
the zero of the poor wretch who will lie even when the 
truth would serve him better. 

From policy, the lowest of all motives to do right, if 
from no other, never deceive. There is no surer way of 
disarming yourselves. 



XXII. 
TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS, CONTINUED. 

All that has been said of the well-nigh irresistible 
power of habit might be repeated with especial empha- 
sis in dealing with our present subject. The Castle of 
Truth cannot be erected in the soul without long and 
patient effort. Its foundations must be strong and 
deep-laid ; its walls and columns must be solid to the 
centre of each massive block. Then only will it stand 
firm and unshaken amid the storms of temptation. 

Julia Taylor. Why, then, are little children so often 
made a proverb of truthfulness ? 

Dr. Dix. In little children the virtues are chiefly 
those of negative innocence. They are like tender 
flowers blooming in the virgin soil where a future city 
is to be built. They are fragrant and beautiful, indeed : 
but life is more than a garden ; its sweetest flowers 
must erelong give place to castles or hovels, temples or 
dungeons. 

Habit, habit, habit. There can scarcely be too much 
iteration of the word. Habit determines almost infalli- 
bly what a man shall do in any given situation ; it deter- 
mines with positive certainty what his first unthinking 
impulse shall be. 

" I spoke without thinking," says a boy detected in 
a falsehood. " If I had stopped to think a moment I 
should have told the truth." Does he know that he has 
confessed not one but a thousand falsehoods ? If he 
had declared that he had resisted his first good impulse 
and had sinned deliberately, it would have been bad 
enough, indeed, but better, immeasurably better than 



114 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

it was. My hero would have done neither the one thing 
nor the other. From his brave, clear eyes and his ready 
tongue the truth would have leaped forth instantly, pure, 
w^hole, unsullied. 

There are certain vices that men are more or less 
proud of. No one is proud of falsehood. The lowest 
vagrant will scowl and show fight at being called a liar, 
though he may rarely open his mouth but to lie ; for of 
all the virtues of good men there is none he admires 
more than their truthfulness ; there is none that in his 
estimation more distinctly marks the difference between 
them and himself. 

I have spoken of the advantage which a reputation 
for truthfulness gives a man among his fellows. Of 
infinitely greater value than the mere reputation is the 
reality. The instant one begins to deviate, though never 
so slightly, from the truth, he has given his moral struc- 
ture a wrench that has loosened its very foundation 
stones. Whatever others may think of him, he knows 
that he is, in some degree at least, a sham ; that there is 
a hollow place in what may still seem on the outside 
solid and whole to the centre. Every succeeding lie, 
whether discovered or not, gives another wrench and 
takes away another stone, until at last there is nothing 
left but a shell. There are sins that men may commit 
a v nd still retain some measure of self-respect, but what 
must the habitual liar think of himself ? He at least, 
if no one else, can look within and behold the moral 
void. 

Archibald Watson. How, then, can any man retain 
his self-respect ? Are not all men liars ? 

Dr. Dix. Compared with Absolute Truth all men are 
liars. So, seen against the face of the sun, a candle 
flame is a black cone. But all men are not habitual nor 
intentional liars. As a race, they are earnest lovers of 
and seekers for the truth. They long to discover it, 
reveal it to their fellows, and hand it down to their 



TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. 115 

descendants. What long ages of patient toil they have 
given to this single pursnit ! What expense or pains 
too great to pnrge from human knowledge its alloy of 
error ? It was easy to trace upon the map the sup- 
posed sources of the Xile, but who was satisfied with 
the supposed sources ? It is a pleasing thought that 
beyond the icebergs and ice fields there may be a calm, 
clear sea, in which ships may ride as safely as in their 
own harbors. But of what value is the mere thought ? 
It is the truth men yearn for, and it is this yearning that 
has sent so many to the death-chill of the frozen Xorth. 
And they want the exact truth, not a mere approach to 
it. Men have for instance, known, for a long time very 
nearly the distance of our earth from the sun, so nearly 
that the addition or subtraction of a small fraction of 
a hair's breadth in instrumental measurements would 
probably give its exact distance. Every few years an 
opportunity comes to lessen still further this fraction 
of error, when the leading governments fit out expedi- 
tions at great expense, and scientific men leave their 
homes and sail to the antipodes, if need be, to take 
full advantage of these opportunities. 

One of our future Talks will be on the moral effect of 
purely secular study. What possible relation, for in- 
stance, can there be between mathematics and virtue ? 
I will anticipate that Talk to say that, whatever its 
other effects may be, there can be no question that 
secular study tends very powerfully to develop a love 
for the truth, the exact truth, and a contempt for error. 
It is the untrained and untaught mind that is satisfied 
with half-truth and half -falsehood. The weakness and 
indolence of ignorance are responsible for more lies and 
half-lies than all other causes combined. One of the 
richest fruits of intellectual training is accuracy. 

George Williams. I have sometimes felt an uncom- 
fortable doubt as to whether accuracy may not be gained 
at the expense of breadth and vigor. 



116 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. Such a result is by no means impossible ; 
but a sensible man is not likely to make so foolish and 
unnecessary a blunder. Wholesome, properly conducted 
intellectual training not only quickens the perceptions, 
but enlarges their range. A child's or a savage's pic- 
ture of a horse satisfies his own eye both in detail and 
in general outline : training would reveal to him the 
slovenliness of the one no sooner than the gross dispro- 
portion of the other. The untrained taste and intellect 
are satisfied with disproportion in outline and slovenli- 
ness in detail in everything, — pictures, architecture, 
dress, stories, histories, arguments ; that is to say, they 
are as likely to be lacking in breadth and vigor as in 
accuracy. And when to untrained taste and intellect is 
added an untrained moral sense, which is satisfied with 
what I may call slovenly truthfulness, what chance re- 
mains for either art or truth ? 

Julia Taylor. Dr. Dix, I appreciate all that has been 
said of the importance of truth and truthfulness ; but 
language has other uses besides to impart knowledge : 
to amuse, for instance ; to make us laugh ; to please 
the taste and fancy, as in the cases of fairy tales and 
mythology, of which you have approved. Has not fic- 
tion an important office to perform ? 

Dr. Dix. Most certainly. I have compared the use 
of language to communicate knowledge to the use of 
the art of engraving to produce bank-notes, the repre- 
sentatives of value ; but the art of engraving has uses 
besides that of producing bank-notes. A beautiful pic- 
ture has an intrinsic value consisting in its beauty ; but 
an ugly scrawl upon a soiled scrap of paper may have a 
representative value that will purchase a thousand pic- 
tures. So the eloquence of an actor on the stage may 
have an intrinsic value, consisting in its beauty, force, 
skilfully simulated passion ; but an awkwardly expressed 
statement of fact from an authority may have a repre- 
sentative value outweighing it a thousand times. 



TRUTH AND TRUTHFULNESS. 117 

A great audience sat listening breathlessly to the out- 
pouring of Othello's grief and remorse by the bedside 
of his murdered wife. At the very climax of the thrill- 
ing scene, when he was about to plunge the dagger into 
his own breast, a plain man, in every-day dress, stepped 
upon the stage with a paper in his hand. It was the 
mayor. " Ladies and gentlemen/' he said, " I have 
come to tell you that Lee has surrendered ! " What 
then was Othello ? what was Desdemona ? Only two 
of a great multitude shouting in frantic joy. 

But even the intrinsic values of which I have spoken 
— that of the engraving and that of the acting — are, 
after all, dependent upon their truthfulness, their fidel- 
ity to nature and reality. Eeal art is but the embodi- 
ment of truth. The best fiction is truer than much of 
what professes to be history. There is more truth in 
Michael Angelo's angels than in most portraits. 

Louisa Thompson. Including their wings ? 

Br. Dix. Yes, including their wings ; for their wings 
represent nothing but what may be true of the soul, 
even in this life. 

Jonathan Tower. And what of the fairy tales and 
mythology ? 

Dr. Dix. They deceive no one, and if written and 
read aright even they may teach lessons of truth that 
inartistic stories of real life utterly fail to teach. Com- 
pare " Rip Van Winkle " with an ordinary newspaper 
account of what " actually happened " ! 



XXIII. 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN LANGUAGE. 

Archibald Watson. Dr. Dix, notwithstanding the 
strong detestation which you have expressed for all de- 
partures from the truth, I want to ask if there is not a 
certain kind which may be innocent. There is an old 
sailor in our neighborhood whom everybody looks upon 
as an amiable and perfectly harmless fellow, who never- 
theless is acknowledged to be the greates-t liar in town. 

Dr. Dix. Does he acknowledge it himself ? 

Archibald Watson. No, indeed, not he ! He claims 
to be veracity personified. But we have reckoned up 
the shortest possible time in which the personal adven- 
tures which he relates could have taken place, and it 
makes him about two hundred and fifty years old. 
[Laughter. ~\ 

Dr. Dix. His assumption of veracity is probably 
only intended to add to the humor of his " yarns." He 
surely does not expect you to believe them ? 

Archibald Watson. I only know that he gets furious 
if any one hints a suspicion of his veracity. He always 
gives the exact time and place w T hen and where every- 
thing happened. 

Dr. Dix. But w r hat does he say to your computed ag- 
gregate of two and a half centuries ? Even Coleridge's 
Ancient Mariner did not claim to be as ancient as that. 

Archibald Watson. He says he does n't care about 
our " figgerin'." He " reckons " he knows what he saw 
with his own eyes and heard with his own ears. Now, 
I want to ask what possible harm his lies can do, since 
the youngest child knows better than to believe them. 



EXTRAVAGANCE IN LANGUAGE. 119 

Dr. Dix. He harms himself, if no one else, in more 
ways than one. He probably nas destroyed, as far as 
possible, his own sense of the difference between trnth 
and falsehood. To him Truth is as if she were not. 
He has destroyed the value of his power of speech ex- 
cept as a means of idle amusement. What would his 
testimony be worth in a court of justice ? You may 
laugh at him and even like him in a way ; but not even 
the youngest child, who, you say, knows better than to 
believe him, can feel for him any real respect. In 
short, he has destroyed the influence which he might 
have exerted as a man and reduced himself to a mean- 
ingless chatterer. 

!STo untruth told with intent to deceive — which is 
what constitutes a lie — can be harmless. The destruc- 
tion of the castle of truth in the soul is one of the 
direst calamities which can befall her. Do not, I be- 
seech you, belittle that calamity. Remember always 
that it is no less than the transformation of solidity to 
hollowness, of reality to sham. 

Archibald Watson. At least you will admit that some 
lies are infinitely worse than others ? 

Dr. Dix. " Infinitely " is a strong word. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Infinitely strong. 

Archibald Watson. Well, that's just the word I want 
to describe some of the lies that are told. 

Dr. Dix. I am almost inclined to agree with you, 
my boy. The word has been so badly abused ? however, 
that it is no longer " infinitely " strong. You spoke a 
little while ago of one kind of departure from the truth 
which you thought might be innocent. There is another 
kind which you and many others may regard as inno- 
cent. I refer to the indiscriminate use of such words 
as the one in question. Is it innocent ? Let us see. 
"Infinitely" meant originally absolutely without limit. 
When used by those whose " bank-notes pass for their 
full face value," it still means the same. Space extends 



120 CHARACTER BUILDING, 

infinitely in all directions, but one young lady's hair is 
not infinitely longer than another's, as I overheard a 
third young lady declare the other morning. [Laughter.'] 
Time past and future is infinite in duration, but Dr. 
Long's sermons are not, although I have heard them 
called so. Now, I do not charge those who habitually 
use extravagant language with any great amount of 
moral turpitude. They probably mean no harm; they 
do not usually intend even what some might regard as 
innocent deception. When your landlady told you this 
morning that she had just bought some " perfectly 
splendid butter," she probably did not intend you to 
understand that it emitted a dazzling radiance from its 
golden surface ; she simply meant that it was fresh and 
sweet, and that was all the meaning her w^ords con- 
veyed to your mind. When a young lady informs her 
confidential friend that the new French teacher is " ut- 
terly horrible," she does not mean that he wears horns 
and is covered with scales, like a dragon ; it is only her 
animated way of saying that he is not altogether agree- 
able to her. Well, since that is all she means and since 
that is all she is understood to mean, where 's the harm ? 
The harm is exactly that that is all she is understood 
to mean. 

Helen Sawyer. I think there would be a great deal 
more harm if she were understood to mean exactly 
what she says. 

Dr. Dix. If she were so understood she would proba- 
bly not make use of such language. She and others like 
her have so corrupted the " coin of the realm " that it 
has lost, when " uttered " by them at least, the greater 
part of its value. They have done what they could to 
destroy the power of language. You often hear the ex- 
pression, " Words are inadequate to describe," etc. But 
why are they inadequate ? If their original power had 
been preserved intact, there is nothing in nature or art, 
in action or feeling that they would not adequately 



EXTRAVAGANCE IN LANGUAGE. 121 

represent. The most splendid sunset that eyes ever 
beheld was no more than splendid, but since butter has 
set up an equal claim to the epithet what remains to 
describe the sunset ? The most horrible monsters that 
ever existed in fact or in fancy were no more than hor- 
rible, but since unpopular, but perhaps well-meaning and 
even respectable-appearing, instructors in French have 
been unfortunate enough to fall into the same category, 
how can we convey any adequate idea of those mon- 
sters ? 

Suppose one of these luxuriant speakers should at- 
tempt to describe some experience of which his hearers 
actually knew nothing save from his description ; sup- 
pose he had seen what was in actual fact beautiful or 
magnificent or lovely, or frightful or horrible or utterly 
revolting. What could he say ? The utmost resources 
of his vocabulary suffice to express only the rather fine, 
the passably attractive, the somewhat disagreeable. Im- 
agine the struggles he would make for expression, and 
the final desperation with which he would say, " But 
words are utterly inadequate to give you the faintest 
idea of it ! " 

Julia Taylor. You said that these poor abused words 
formerly meant more than they do now. Has n't human 
nature always been the same ? Don't you suppose peo- 
ple have always been'as prone to extravagant language 
as they are to-day ? 

Dr. Dix. No, Miss Taylor. I believe that the ever- 
increasing stream of modern trashy fiction that is pour- 
ing from the press has done more and is doing more to 
devitalize our language than all other causes combined. 
Its choicest words, that should be kept sacredly for the 
rare occasions when they are really appropriate, are 
spread thickly over every page. The constant struggle 
of vulgar minds to elevate themselves to the ranks of 
genius tends only to drag the language of genius down 
to their own level. In doing the work of peasants 



122 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

among peasants the kings and queens among words 
have lost their crowns and their royal robes, and now 
wear only fustian. Hence the habitual reader of cheap 
romance finds the works of real genius, past or present, 
tame and impotent. 

Isabelle Anthony. What you have just said solves 
what has been a mystery to me. I have always won- 
dered in what the superiority of the classics consists. 
There is so much written to-day that seems to me more 
brilliant, vigorous, and vivid than anything of Virgil's, 
or Pope's, or Dryden's, that I have really distrusted the 
critics, and have suspected that the boasted superiority 
of the classics is only a tradition. 

Dr. Dix. When next you read Virgil, Pope, Dryden, 
Spenser, Ben Jonson, or Wordsworth, try to forget the 
decrepitude into which the words they used are rapidly 
falling, and give to them the power they possessed when 
they were written. 

Florence Hill. But I -suppose to-day has its geniuses 
as well as the past. It is not their fault that language 
has lost so much of its vigor. What are they to do .? 

Dr. Dix. Your question brings us back to the author- 
ity of the speaker or writer. Do not forget that as a 
bank-note owes its value to the bank that issues it, so 
a word owes its force to the person who utters it. A 
speaker or a writer who is observed to confine his use of 
words scrupulously to their true meaning will restore 
to them, in his own utterances at least, much of their 
original force : all of which is only another way of 
saying that the man who alwa} T s tells the truth — as 
the real genius does, for genius is, after all, only a 
quicker insight into the true — will always be believed. 

Julia Taylor. That will do very well for geniuses, 
but common, every-day people cannot hope to do much 
towards restoring to words their original force. If they 
should try to do so, I am afraid they would only succeed 
in making themselves seem more stupid, or perhaps 



EXTRAVAGANCE IN LANGUAGE. 123 

rude, than ever. Suppose, for instance, I should tell my 
friend whom I had been visiting that I had enjoyed a 
considerable amount of pleasure, and that I hoped she 
would return my visit when it should be mutually con- 
venient, instead of fervently assuring her that I had had 
" a most lovely time," and that I should be " perfectly 
delighted " to have her return my visit as soon as she 
possibly could : I am afraid that, instead of giving me 
credit for truthfulness and for a desire to reform the 
language, she would simply wonder what had happened 
to offend me so grievously. 

Dr. Dix. If you had been in the habit of gushing, she 
would probably wonder what had so suddenly checked 
the stream. But suppose, during your visit, a part of 
your conversation had been on the very subject we are 
now discussing, and you had mutually agreed to take 
each other's words at their real value ; then suppose she 
should reply to you in the reformed style which you 
have illustrated (which, by the way, would probably 
understate the real feelings of you both), don't you 
think you would, already assured of each other's true 
friendship, be fully satisfied with its expression ? 

Julia Taylor. I am afraid not. I think we should 
both feel decidedly chilled. 

Dr. Dix. Another illustration of the force of habit. 
No doubt it would be as y ou say. It would take you 
a long time to become reconciled to the strange vocabu- 
lary. And if society in general is ever to make this 
much-needed reform and restore to words their birth- 
right of power, it must be a long, slow process. But 
what a grand triumph it would be for truth ! 

There are some honest souls, however, that would not 
need to change. My own revered father is one of these. 
When he said, "That was not right, my son," it was 
more to me than the severest denunciation from others 
would have been, and his "Well done" was a eulogy 
indeed ! 



XXIV. 
SNAKES IN THE GRASS. 

Dr. Dix. Last Wednesday morning Watson asked 
whether some lies are not " infinitely " worse than oth- 
ers. His extravagant adverb supplied in itself a sub- 
ject for the greater part of our Talk for that occasion. 
Now let us try to answer the question he intended to 
ask. What is one of the worst kinds of lies than can be 
told? 

Choncs. Slander. 

Dr. Dix. Unquestionably. It is fittingly typified by 
a serpent hiding in the grass. We have been speaking 
of liars who are hollow within, though they may appear 
fair and solid from without. The slanderer is neither 
hollow within nor fair without, for he is filled within 
and is reeking without with venom. The ruffian who 
assaults his victim face to face may at least show a 
certain degree of brute courage ; his victim may have 
some chance of defending himself, — may at least know 
that he is attacked, and who his assailant is ; but the 
slanderer makes his cowardly attack without facing 
either the physical or the moral defence of his victim. 
Iago sought and enjoyed the friendly confidence of the 
fair, pure, innocent being whose " sweet body" and 
good name he was at once so malignantly plotting to 
destroy. Towards other enemies we may feel placidly 
defiant, but who so strong, so brave, so well panoplied; 
that he may defy this one ? Only he whose virtue has 
been tried and proved beyond a doubt. This, the mean- 
est and most cowardly of all foes, is yet the only one 
before whom the best and bravest have been made to 



SNAKES IN THE GRASS. 125 

cower. Few have escaped his deadly fangs, darting forth 
from dark holes reeking with poisonous slime. The more 
eminent the victim, the fiercer and more venomous the 
infernal bites. Even the immortal Washington, whom 
we look upon as the type of all that is good and noble 
in man, was daring his life the favorite victim of cal- 
umny ; and once there were no colors black enough tc 
paint our sainted Lincoln in the minds of thousands 
of our fellow-countrymen. 

Learn from this a lesson for to-day and for coming 
days. Do not believe, as rival political journals would 
have you, that there are no really good, wise, or patri- 
otic men among our nation's leaders. There is corrup- 
tion enough, Heaven knows, and fraud enough in public 
places ; but not all our legislators and officials are knaves 
or fools. 

But it is not alone the eminent who feel the stings of 
calumny. There is scarcely any one in public or in 
private life who has not suffered in a greater or less 
degree. Tell me now, what are some of the incentives 
to this contemptible crime ? 

Frederick Fox. Envy. Some people cannot bear to 
see others more prosperous or popular than themselves, 
and so they take this means to bring them down to their 
own level or below it. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; the serpent calumny is often the 
spawn of that other serpent you have named. Go on. 

Henri/ Phillips. Revenge. A coward who does not 
dare to revenge himself openly for a real or a fancied 
injury may try what seems to him a safer way. 

Archibald Watson. Another form of cowardice, which 
leads a person to try to escape punishment or censure 
by fastening his own guilt upon another. 

Dr. Dix. You may well call it another form of cow- 
ardice, and it is hard to say which form is the more 
contemptible. Go on. 

Susan Perkins. Prejudice. 



126 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Charles Fox. Uncharitableness. 

Lucy Snoiv. Love of gossip. 

Dr. Dix. The last three you have named, particularly 
the third, may be the least malignant of all the motives 
to bear false witness against our neighbor, but they 
probably are responsible for by far the greater aggre- 
gate of mischief on account of their greater prevalence. 

We need not devote much of our Talk to the more 
flagrant sins. The greater part of offences against the 
civil law need form the subject of no long homilies 
here. Their revolting names are comment enough of 
themselves. Mankind is a race of sinners, but not of 
criminals. As comparatively few fall victims to sav- 
age beasts of prey, while countless multitudes die from 
the attacks of invisible foes that people the water and 
the air, so it is not great crimes that most people need 
to be warned against, but little faults that grow unseen, 
perhaps, and unsuspected in their minds and hearts, — 
little faults which, however, if unrestrained in their 
growth, may develop into crime. You all know that it 
was never the first act of dishonesty that consigned a 
man to the felon's cell, nor the first indulgence in uncon- 
trolled hatred that condemned him to the scaffold. 

Let us now return to our specific subject. I have no 
fear lest any of us may become an Iago, but are we always 
guiltless of the sin of bearing false witness against our 
neighbor ? If we never cherish the fiercer and baser 
passions of envy and revenge, if we never screen our- 
selves from the righteous indignation of our fellow-men 
by sacrificing to it the reputation of our innocent neigh- 
bor, are we always free from the prejudice, uncharitable- 
ness, and love of scandal which have made havoc of so 
many fair names ? Do we never form unfavorable opin- 
ions of persons with whom we have too little acquain- 
tance to justify any verdict, good or bad ? What is 
more to the point, do we never freely express those 
opinions to others ? Are we always inclined to put the 



SNAKES IN THE GRASS. 127 

best constructions upon the words and acts of those who 
are better known to us ? Do we never detect ourselves 
relating with malicious satisfaction or hearing with 
equal relish some piece of petty scandal ? 

Let us never forget that our neighbor's reputation is 
worth more to him than houses or lands or any other 
earthly treasure. 

Remember that there is nothing more tender than a 
good name. A shrug of the shoulders, a sidelong glance ? 
a curl of the lip, may wound it u past all surgery." Al- 
ways think before you speak, but especially before you 
speak of your absent neighbor, whose utter defenceless- 
ness in your hands should appeal to your pity and your 
chivalry. You knov not how many times you may 
have thoughtlessly lowered him in some one's esteem 
for the mere sake of being interesting, spicy, or witty. 
Ah, how many hearts have been pierced, how many 
fair fames have been besmirched, for the sake of a 
paltry witticism ! Would you destroy your neighbor's 
property for sport ? Do not that which is worse ! 

Louisa Thompson. I wonder how many there are 
among us whose consciences are entirely at ease now. 
And yet, who can avoid prejudice ? It is so natural to 
judge strangers by some unpleasing expression of face 
or peculiarity of manner. One of the ladies I love and 
admire most among my acquaintances I once thought 
the proudest, the most selfish and unapproachable. 
The worst of it is that I did not hesitate to speak of 
her as such among my friends. I shall never forget 
the day when I made her acquaintance and found how 
completely I had been deceived. If only I were sure 
that all I have said of her since had entirely undone 
the mischief, I should be happy indeed. I bitterly real- 
ize that a word once uttered can never be recalled. I 
say these things publicly, in the hope that they may 
help towards the reparation I am so anxious to make to 
one of the sweetest-souled women I ever knew. 



128 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix [ivith feeling^. You may be assured, Miss 
Thompson, there is no one here who thinks the less of 
you for the noble words you have just spoken. 

Julia Taylor. Dr. Dix, I suppose you would pro- 
nounce pure love of gossip to be the greatest of all the 
destroyers of reputation? 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; because, though, as I have said, it 
may be the least malignant in intention, it is undoubt- 
edly the most prevalent. It pervades all classes, from 
the cultivated readers of the city society journal to the 
country sewing circle and the frequenters of the notori- 
ous corner grocery. 

Thomas Dunn. Pardon me if I take exception to 
your adjective " cultivated." 

Dr. Dix. The word, as Artemus Ward would say, 
"was spoke sarkastic." But there are none who lay 
claim to higher " culture w than some of those to whom 
I referred. Of course their claim is an utterly false 
one. Personalities are the favorite food of ignorant 
and empty minds. Those whose thoughts rise to sci- 
ence, art, literature, history, or matters which pertain 
to the well-being of their race, their country, their 
state, their city or town, or even the street on which 
they live, have no leisure for personal gossip, either of 
town or country, newspaper or rural store. 

One of the subjects proposed for our Talks is the 
relation between secular study and morals. One point 
has already been made. Here we may add another .- 
One cannot very easily study algebra or Greek, and 
blacken his neighbor's character at the same time. 



XXV. 
GREAT IS TRUTH, AND IT WILL PREVAIL. * 

Dr. Dix. You have observed that in these Talks on 
Truth and Truthfulness I have made use of very plain 
language. As the homely saying is, I have called a 
spade a spade, and not an agricultural implement. 
The intentional uttering of an untruth with intent to 
deceive I have called a lie. I might have used a word 
which would have fallen more smoothly upon your ears 
and upon mine, — " misrepresentation," for instance, or 
" equivocation," " prevarication," " coloring," or " em- 
bellishment." Why do these words seem smoother 
than the little monosyllable which is so obnoxious to 
people in general, and to the culprit himself in partic- 
ular ? Certainly not on account of their articulate 
sound. In each of these polysyllables there are harsh 
consonants, while the little monosyllable contains only 
a liquid and a vowel sound, — the smoothest of all. It 
is because the little word is so uncompromising in its 
significance. Italian to the ear, it is blunt Saxon to 
the comprehension. Like a smooth, round bullet, it 
goes straight to the mark. Some people profess to re- 
gard it as coarse : it is not coarse ; it is simply strong 
and exact. It is unpopular because it represents an 
ugly thing in its naked ugliness. Ugly things must be 
spoken of sometimes : we cannot fight our enemies effi- 
ciently without facing them. There are lies which are 
rarely or never called by their true name, — lies of look 
and gesture, even of silence and total inaction. 

" I did not speak a word to you that was not strictly 
true," pleads a clever culprit to the victim of his cun- 



130 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

ningly contrived deception. But that is only another 
lie. The words themselves were but breath : if their 
import was intended to be misleading, it matters not if 
their actual meaning could be sworn to, they told as 
black a lie as if no mean and cowardly cunning had 
been used in their construction. But perhaps no word 
whatever was uttered. Still, it matters not. The 
tongue is not the only organ of speech we possess : the 
eyes speak, and the hands ; the whole body may be elo- 
quent with the utterance of truth or falsehood. If a 
stranger asks me his way, and I point with my finger 
in the wrong direction, have I not lied to him ? If 
only the tongue can commit this sin, then it is only 
necessary for a man to be born deaf and dumb to be the 
very Truth incarnate. 

George Williams. I think people sometimes tell 
what is not quite true, not from intentional dishonesty, 
but from mere carelessness. They do not think it 
worth while to take the pains necessary to state the ex- 
act truth ; they think that what they say is near enough 
to the truth. 

Dr. Dix. I want to speak of that notion of " near 
enough " and " well enough." There is no doubt that 
among the proverbs which have been abused is the one 
that tells us that " whatever is worth doing at all is 
worth doing well." If it were always understood to 
mean exactly what it says, it would be less likely to be 
abused ; but there are some persons who know nothing 
of adjectives and adverbs but the superlative degree. 
Many things which are worth doing well are not worth 
doing in the best possible manner. Nature, with end- 
less time and endless space at her disposal, can afford 
to aim at perfection in every minute detail of her work ; 
but a man's life is but a span, and he must select. 
There is such a thing as sacrificing the whole to its 
most insignificant parts. Chinese pictures are some- 
times exhibited as curiosities (they certainly are not 



GREAT IS TRUTH. ' 131 

works of art), whose minutest details have been finished 
with an elaboration appealing equally to our wonder 
and our pity for the patient toiler, while the general 
effect may be inferior to that of the caricature on a 
child's slate. 

Joseph Cracklin. Some people study Greek and Latin 
on the Chinese principle. 

Dr. Dix. That stupid blunder has had its day. The 
classical scholar who makes etymology, syntax, and 
mechanical prosody an end, rather than a means to the 
more thorough understanding of classical literature, is 
an anachronism. 

There is far more danger, however, of abuse in the 
other direction. Things that are worth doing are much 
more likely not to be done thoroughly enough than too 
thoroughly. " Well enough " and " near enough " are 
the greatest obstacles to successful achievement that lie 
in the way of scholarship or any other department of 
human effort. They who make these their mottoes are 
the ones who are surest to fail, and who at best never 
rise above mediocrity. 

We shall soon talk about Industry and Work. What 
has just been said will then apply as well as now ; but 
we have not yet finished with the great subject of Truth. 
Whatever else you may be in danger of doing too thor- 
oughly, you can never be too exact in your adherence 
to the truth. There is no " well enough " here but the 
very best, no " near enough " but the truth itself. 

If you quote an author, do not be satisfied with giv- 
ing his drift, unless that is all you are pretending to 
do : give his exact language. By the change of a single 
word you may unwittingly spoil the force, beauty, and 
symmetry of the passage you attempt to quote ; and 
you have no more right to slander an author, living or 
dead, than any other of your fellow-men. A beautiful 
countenance seen through a twisted pane of glass may 
be distorted to an ugly caricature. An unskilful por- 



132 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

trait painter may excite your indignation and disgust 
by the misplacement of a single line. If you misquote 
an author, you are like a twisted pane of glass or an 
unskilful portrait painter. 

Florence Hill. An author's works are usually acces- 
sible ; but suppose we have occasion to quote a speaker, 
public or private, what shall we do ? We are not all 
gifted with the memory of a Webster or a Macaulay. 

Dr. Dix. In that case you can, of course, make no 
pretence of verbal quotation. Your hearers understand 
fully that you are attempting to give only the sub- 
stance, and hold you alone responsible for the language. 
But this does not exempt you from the utmost possible 
care. This is one of the things you cannot do too well. 
You have no more right to color or distort the substance 
of what you have heard than you have to misquote the 
words you have read. 

Henry Jones. Please, Dr. Dix, is n't it sometimes 
right to tell a lie ? 

Dr. Dix [smiling']. What do you think yourself, 
Henry ? 

Henry Jones. I think it is. 

Dr. Dix. When, for instance ? 

Henry Jones. My Sunday-school teacher told me that 
it was better to break a bad promise than to keep it. 

Dr. Dix. Your teacher might have explained to you 
that breaking a bad promise and telling a lie are two 
entirely different things. 

Henry Jones. Why, sir, if a boy promises to help 
another boy to steal, and does n't keep his promise, 
has n't he told a lie ? 

Dr. Dix. If, when he made the promise, he did not 
intend to keep it, it was certainly a lie ; but the promise 
itself was the lie, not the breaking of it. 

Henry Jones. Do you think as my Sunday-school 
teacher does ? 

Dr. Dix. Certainly. I agree with him perfectly. 



GREAT IS TRUTH. 133 

You cannot undo a past fault : the only thing you can 
do is to repent of it, repair it as far as possible, and re- 
solve not to repeat it. 

George Williams. I think I can state cases in which 
it would be right to tell a lie. 

Dr. Dix. Possibly. Let us hear them. 

George Williams. In war, to deceive an enemy ; in 
peace, to save life or property from murderers or rob- 
bers. Would n't a bank cashier be justified in telling 
any number of lies to prevent a burglar from robbing 
hundreds of trusting, innocent people ? What would 
you think of a mother who should scruple to lie to a 
band of savages to save herself and her children from 
their tomahawks ? 

Dr. Dix [rising, and speaking with deliberate empha- 
sis']. Scholars, there is lying which is not lying, just 
as there is killing which is not murder. The command 
is, Thou shalt not kill ; but when your country's ene- 
mies are arrayed in battle line against her life, the 
more killing you do until the hostile flag is struck and 
the hostile arms are grounded, the braver, better hero 
you are. May the day speedily come when no such 
heroism shall be needed ! They who feel — and need to 
feel — no scruples in killing to save home and country, 
neighbor and child, need scarcely hesitate to tell that 
which is not true in such a cause. Such lying is not 
lying : they who are not entitled to their lives if you 
can take them are surely not entitled to the truth 
which you can withhold from them. But all this only 
serves to show the essential barbarism of war, which 
seems to justify all lesser evils necessary to its prosecu- 
tion. 

Frederick Fox. Last Wednesday you hinted at some 
exceptions to the rule that the lower animals and inani- 
mate things tell the truth. Are not these exceptions 
somewhat similar to those we have just been talking 
about ? 



134 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. I was about to speak of that very resem- 
blance. However, I should much rather hear your 
views on the subject. 

Frederick Fox. We have learned in our study of 
nature of many curious instances of deception among 
both plants and animals, either for the sake of defence 
against enemies or for the sake of more easily securing 
their prey. If actions speak louder than words, and if 
a lie may be told by a look as well as by speech, the 
" walking-stick " is a continual liar. It seems to be al- 
ways saying, " I am not an insect, — I am only a dry 
twig ; so you need n't trouble yourself to try to eat me." 
The leaf-insect of Java, and the still more wonderful 
leaf-butterfly, which when in repose cannot without 
great difficulty be distinguished from a leaf of the tree 
or shrub on which it is in the habit of alighting, are 
greater liars still. 

Joseph Cracldin. If Nature sets us such examples of 
deception, why need we look upon it as so very heinous 
an offence, after all ? 

Dr. Dix. They appear to me to be very much such 
examples as the mother would set, in the case supposed 
by Williams. Self-preservation is the first law of na- 
ture for the humblest insect and plant as well as for 
man. The very fact that it is shown in this cause, and 
in this cause alone, should teach us the sacredness both 
of life and of truth. 

As I said at the outset, if a man were as truthful and 
honest as Nature, he would be a far better and nobler 
being than he is. Nature never adulterates her goods 
nor offers lying samples of them. Her apples are al- 
ways apples, and not base imitations. Nor are they 
always placed at the top of her barrel. There is never 
any cheapening glucose in her sugar-cane. 

Susan Perkins. Dr. Dix, you told us last week that 
Washington was shamefully slandered during his life. 
However great the effect may have been at the time, 



GREAT IS TRUTH. 135 

it has all passed away. Does n't this show that even 
slander, wicked and mean as it is, cannot work perma- 
nent harm ? 

Dr. Dix. Xot only slander, but all kinds of untruth 
are destined to die. Truth only is immortal. History 
is one long story of the mighty conflict between truth 
and falsehood, in which the victory is always at last 
on the side of truth. Each succeeding century has wit- 
nessed the crashing ruin, one after another, of the great 
strongholds of error. They are not all down yet, but 
they are all doomed. 

Magna est Veritas, et pr&valebit. 1 

1 Great is truth, and it will prevail. 



XXVI. 
HONESTY. 

Dr. Dix. We began our consideration of the habits 
which we wish to cultivate with that of truthfulness. 
Closely allied to it is the habit of honesty ; that is, 
justice in our dealings with others as regards property. 
In its widest sense honesty includes truthfulness, but 
I use the word now in the commonly restricted sense 
which I have defined. I spoke of the two virtues as 
closely allied. It is often said, you know, that he who 
steals will surely lie. 

Jonathan Tower. But he who lies will not surely 
steal. 

Dr. Dix. That depends, I suppose, somewhat on what 
kind of lies he is in the habit of telling. 

Archibald Watson. The old sailor I spoke of the 
other day is thought to be honest enough so far as 
money goes. 

Dr. Dix. Very likely. As a class I believe sailors 
are not often accused of avarice, whatever their other 
failings may be. Nevertheless, I think I should prefer 
to trust my own financial interests to one who is honest 
in the widest sense of the term, in words as well as in 
deeds. I intend no personal offence to your nautical 
acquaintance, Watson. I am speaking only on general 
principles. 

Archibald Watson. I fully agree with you, Dr. Dix. 

Dr. Dix. Our national Declaration of Independence 
names among man's inalienable rights, life, liberty, and 
the pursuit of happiness. As property of some sort 
and in some quantity is necessary to at least two of 



HONESTY. 137 

these, the right to it is generally regarded as next in 
sacredness to those of life and personal liberty. 

Helen Sawyer. The other morning you said £hat a 
man's reputation is worth more to him than houses or 
lands or other earthly treasure. 

Dr. Dix. And a moment ago I implied a different 
order, in the general estimation. Perhaps, as man ad- 
vances in civilization, there may come about a complete 
readjustment in the acknowledged values of things, 
when even the courts will inflict a severer penalty upon 
a convicted slanderer than upon a convicted thief. The 
tendency seems to be in that direction. The time was 
when there was no such crime as libel recognized in law, 
— no crime, in fact, except such as was committed di- 
rectly against person or property. The penalty for all 
other offences was left to the sufferer himself, who often 
wiped them out in the blood of the offender. 

Isabelle Anthony. That he was allowed to do this 
seems to show that those other offences were recognized 
as crimes, even if the law did not punish them. 

Dr. Dix. Not necessarily, for the most trivial insult 
was often punished in this way, though it might excite 
only the laughter of all save the aggrieved party him- 
self. 

Charles Fox. You refer to the duel ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes. That was the only means of redress 
men once had for all offences which were too subtle in 
their nature for the clumsy hands of the law to lay hold 
upon. If we look back far enough in history, we shall 
find that there was no other redress even for theft. Be- 
tween that day and this, when such offences as libel and 
the "alienation of affection" are punishable by law, 
there is a wide gulf indeed ! If the improvement goes 
on, if the time ever comes when all things shall be esti- 
mated at their true value, and those offences which are 
in reality the worst shall meet with the severest penal- 
ties, the mere stealing of one's purse will stand lower 



138 CHARACTER BUILDING. 



in the list than it stands to-day. The slaying of the 
body is not the only crime that is worse than robbery 
or libel ; the slaying of the soul is immeasurably worse 
than either. Is it not a singular commentary on the 
civil code that the chief offence attributed to the im- 
personation of all evil is rarely punishable by human 
laws ? They among men who most closely resemble 
that impersonation in their wickedness, they whose lives 
are devoted to the work of undermining virtue and purity 
in the souls of their fellow-men, are, so far as human 
laws are concerned, very often totally unwhipped of 
justice. 

Joseph Cracklin. Dr. Dix, do you believe there is 
such a being as the devil ? 

Dr. Dix. It matters not whether I do or not. Suffice 
it that there is a spirit of evil rampant among men, 
a moral gravitation which tends to draw their souls 
downward, as the earth draws their bodies downward. 
Against this power there is an inward force which tends 
to hold them erect. And as their bodies grow strong 
by continual resistance to the downward pull of earth, 
so may their souls grow strong and erect by their never- 
ending battle with evil. 

In what I said before this digression do not under- 
stand me to belittle the wickedness of theft. That 
there are still lower depths of wickedness does not 
diminish the depth of this. Its guilt is so obvious, so 
palpable, that though, as I said, it has not always been 
subject to legal penalty, there can never have been a 
time when it was not looked upon as a heinous offence. 

Helen Sawyer. The ancient Spartans are said to have 
encouraged and rewarded it. 

Dr. Dix. The ancient Spartans were an exceptional 
people even for the savage times in which they lived. 
They encouraged theft, not as a meritorious act in itself, 
but as affording opportunities for the exercise of the 
courage, skill, and address which they prized so highly. 



HONESTY. 189 

If these virtues were lacking, as shown by failure in 
the attempt or by detection, both the attempt and the 
lack of virtues were punished together. 

From the very first the undisturbed possession of 
property must have been regarded by men in general 
•as one of their inalienable rights. It has always been 
indispensable to their comfort, happiness, even life. 
Without it, the most powerful incentive to industry 
and the exercise of skill would not exist. The rudest 
savage must always have looked upon it as the just 
reward of his labor. The bow and arrows he had made, 
the hut he had built with his own hands, were, as a 
matter of course, his very own ; and the attempt on the 
part of his fellow-savage to deprive him of them, with- 
out giving him a fair equivalent, was, as a matter of 
course, to be resented and punished. 

Julia Taylor. But when his chief required them, 
even without recompense, I suppose he had no thought 
of resisting. 

Dr. Dix. Like his civilized brother he was obliged 
to yield to superior force ; but the inmost feelings of 
his heart were, no doubt, very much the same as yours 
would have been in his place. 

Out-and-out, naked theft or robbery is one of those 
gross crimes which I described the other morning as 
needing no comment. Its revolting name is comment 
enough for all in whose souls the light of conscience is 
not yet extinguished. But there are forms of stealing 
and robbing which may well be commented on in a se- 
ries of Talks on ^Morality, because their real nature is 
not always recognized. Like some forms of lying which 
we have mentioned, they are disguised by euphemisms : 
they are not naked, out-and-out thefts and robberies, 
but " embezzlements," " defalcations," "breaches of 
trust," " sharp practice," " able financiering," etc. Mas- 
querading under these more or less respectable aliases, 
they take their places among other business transac- 



140 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

tions as well-dressed thieves and robbers mingle among 
honest men. But, in reality, two little words name 
them all, just as one little monosyllable names all forms 
of intentional deception. The man who takes that which 
does not justly belong to him, either by intelligent, free 
gift or fair exchange, is a thief or a robber, whether he 
does it with or without the sanction of the law. He 
may call himself, and others may call him, a clever busi- 
ness man, an able financier ; he is a thief or a robber as 
truly as if he had literally as well as virtually picked 
his victim's pocket. 

Henri/ Phillips. Why is it necessary to use two 
words ? Why is not simply " thief " enough ? 

Dr. Dix. Because there is an important moral as 
well as legal distinction between the two words. Theft 
is properly defined as the wrongful appropriation of 
property without the owner's knowledge or consent, 
while robbery is the wrongful appropriation of it with 
his knowledge and with or without his consent, which 
may be wrongfully gained, as, for instance, by threats 
or violence. There are numerous legal subdivisions of 
each of these crimes, but the moral law is but little 
concerned with them. In its view all who take that 
which does not rightfully belong to them are either 
thieves or robbers, whether they do so w r ith or without 
the sanction of the civil law. 

Isdbelle Anthony. Why does the civil law ever sanc- 
tion the wrongful appropriation of property ? 

Susan Perkins. Why, indeed, does it sanction any 
act that the moral law condemns ? 

Dr. Dix. That is too broad a subject to enter upon 
to-day. We will try to answer you next time. 



XXVII 
HONESTY, CONTINUED. 

Dr. Dix. "Why does the civil law ever sanction the 
wrongful appropriation of property ? Why, indeed, 
does it sanction any act that the moral law condemns ? " 

One reason is that its province is necessarily so largely 
confined to what is external, material, and tangible. 
What a man does with his body may be known to all ; 
what he does with his mind is known fully only to him- 
self. Every offence of the one may, therefore, meet 
with full recompense at the hands of the law, while 
the deepest wickedness of the other may be unrecog- 
nized and unpunished, save by that moral retribution 
which awaits both open and secret sins with equal cer- 
tainty. 

So what a man involuntarily suffers in his body 
through the means of another may be known to all and 
the offender may be duly punished ; what he suffers in 
his mind and character through the baleful influence of 
an evil companion may be known scarcely to himself. 
This deepest of all wrongs is the one which most com- 
pletely evades the civil law. 

But though the civil law may permit the ruin of my 
soul with impunity, why, you ask, need it permit the 
theft or robbery of my purse, a purely physical matter ? 

Because, though my purse is a purely physical mat- 
ter, the act by which it is wrongfully taken from me 
may not be ; it may be, in fact, as purely psychical as 
the act by which my virtue is taken from me. 

If a man puts his hand into my pocket and takes my 
purse without my knowledge, he is a thief, whom the 



142 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

law may severely punish ; if he snatches it from my 
hand, or takes me by the throat and rifles it from my 
pocket, he is a robber, and may be punished with still 
greater severity ; if he persuades me to part with it by 
promise of a material equivalent, and does not make 
good his promise according to specifications, he has ob- 
tained it " under false pretences," and may be dealt 
with, but not so severely as the technical thief or rob- 
ber ; if he persuades me to part with it by offering or 
promising that which he knows to be valueless, or of 
less value than the price I pay, he is a swindler, and 
may or may not be punished, according to circum- 
stances. 

But there are plenty of ways in which he may wrong- 
fully take it from me with absolute impunity, so far as 
human laws are concerned. He may do it without my 
knowledge, as by charging unreasonable profits ; or with 
my consent obtained through my folly, ignorance, or 
weakness (which is morally the same as no consent), as 
by selling me some worthless or worse than worthless 
nostrum, or by inducing me to invest in some enterprise 
which he knows to be hopeless. In either case he is as 
truly a thief as the poor, unskilled wretch who knows 
not how to steal according to statute. Again, he may 
do it with my full knowledge and in contemptuous defi- 
ance of my indignation and powerless attempts at self- 
protection, as many a millionaire, trust company, or 
other monopoly has done and is doing to-day. How 
does he or they differ in reality from the strong, bold, 
insolent robber who seizes his victim by the throat and 
rifles his pocket? 

Joseph Cracklin. Are millionaires, trust companies, 
and monopolies always robbers ? 

Dr. Dix. Your question is not a call for information, 
but an implication against my fairness and candor. You 
know very well that they are not always robbers, that 
some of the noblest men the world has ever seen have 



HONESTY. 143 

been men of great wealth honestly obtained. You know, 
furthermore, that combinations of men for greater effi- 
ciency in business do not necessarily involve dishonesty 
in dealing, that such combinations may be, and often 
are, of the greatest benefit not only to the individuals 
composing them but to the general public also. 

Thomas Dunn. It is true, however, is it not, that 
such combinations, especially when they amount to mo- 
nopolies, offer very strong temptations to dishonesty ? 

Dr. Dix. Great power is always a great temptation, 
whether it be physical, moral, political, or financial. But 
virtue may be strong enough to withstand even that 
temptation. Of actual monopolies,' as they are frequently 
secured and managed, I have no defence to make. Too 
often their prime object is fraud. Secured by the ruth- 
less crowding-out of weaker rivals, one by one at 'first, 
and finally by hundreds or by thousands at a time, and 
when secured carried on by the wholesale legalized 
plundering of society, — what name can be properly 
applied to them but that of gigantic robbers ? 

If, however, men were as mighty in virtue as they 
are in intellect, even monopolies might be as powerful 
agents for good as they are for evil. 

Henry Phillips. How would that be possible ? 

Dr. Dix. There is nothing necessarily dishonest or 
cruel in organization. On the contrary, when its pur- 
poses are right and just it is most beneficent in its 
effects. If all the charitable people, for example, in 
our State should unite into one body and carry out 
their schemes of benevolence under one well-managed 
system, their power for good would be immensely in- 
creased. That would be nothing more or less than a 
monopoly of practical beneficence. So if all the com- 
petent workers at the various guilds should be allowed 
by their stronger representatives respectively to organ- 
ize for the more efficient and economical carrying on 
of their business, there might be a grand system of 



144 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

monopolies that would be of incalculable benefit both 
to the workers themselves and to society in general. 

Thomas Dunn. Always supposing the controlling 
powers were honest and public-spirited. I suppose the 
civil codes of an age afford us a pretty fair means of 
judging of the average standard of morality of that age. 

Dr. Dix. It is often said that the rulers elected by 
a people fairly represent their average morality. As 
to the laws which those rulers enact, they more gener- 
ally represent the average standard aimed at as attain- 
able than that actually attained. How far short of the 
standard of the moral law that is, we have already illus- 
trated to some extent. And yet the conduct of many 
so-called respectable men shows plainly that the civil 
law is their highest standard. In all their dealings 
their aim seems to be to keep just within its require- 
ments. So long as they do this they defiantly challenge 
criticism of their conduct, though they may rob the 
widow and the fatherless with relentless cruelty. 

Julia Taylor. However great future improvements 
may be, I don't see how it can ever be possible for the 
two standards to be the same. 

Dr. Dix. If the day ever comes when they are the 
same, it will certainly not be by the enforcement of 
such civil penalties as are now in vogue. When the 
civil law requires, as the moral law has always re- 
quired, that the rich shall not grind the faces of the 
poor in any way whatsoever, that the intelligent and 
the educated shall not use their intelligence and educa- 
tion to oppress the ignorant and the simple, it will be 
obeyed not through dread of fines or imprisonments, 
but through the fear of overwhelming public obloquy, 
— a far more terrible penalty to many persons than 
either fine or imprisonment. 

Susan Perkins. If the time you speak of ever comes, 
there will be no need of the civil law ; the moral law 
will be all-sufficient. 



HONESTY. 145 

Dr. Dix. Not quite all-sufficient, ]\Iiss Perkins. The 
prevention of crime is not the only function of the civil 
law. The simplest form of society — even of those 
whose intentions were morally unexceptionable — could 
scarcely hold together without laws governing their in- 
tercourse in many ways upon which the moral law has 
no bearing. Such laws are the only ones in which mul- 
titudes to-day are personally interested so far as their 
own conduct is concerned. Did you ever think how 
small a proportion of the crowds that walk the streets 
of a city have any personal relations with the blue- 
coated guardians of its peace, — ever notice, in fact, 
whether they are on their beats or not ? 

Helen Mar. I was struck by your mention of the 
abuse of intellectual as well as physical power. A 
strong-armed ruffian that overpowers his victim and 
robs him of his purse is looked upon and punished as 
one of the worst of criminals, but the strong-brained 
ruffian that overpowers his victims by the thousands, 
perhaps, and robs them of purse, house, and land to- 
gether by his superior intellectual power is looked upon, 
as you have said, only as a great financier. I do not 
see why one is not in reality a criminal as well as the 
other, and as much greater a criminal as his robbery is 
greater. 

Dr. Dix. So the moral law regards him ; so in fact 
he is. 



XXVIII. 
A BLACK LIST. 

Dr. Dix. You may mention this morning some of 
the common ways in which the law of honesty as re- 
spects the right of property is violated. 

Archibald Watson. Shall we include those we have 
already talked about ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes. 

Archibald Watson. Well, then, there is plain out-and- 
out stealing, such as is recognized and punished by the 
law. 

James Murphy. And robbery. 

Frank Williams. And obtaining goods under false 
pretences. 

Henry Jones. Forgery. 

Lucy Snow. Counterfeiting. 

Charles Fox. Overcharging for goods or services. 

Jonathan Tower. Failing in business. 

Jane Simpson. Is it necessarily dishonest to fail in 
business ? 

Dr. Dix. No more than in any other department of 
human effort, — no more than it is dishonest to fail in 
art, or authorship, or oratory. 

Jonathan Tower. But does n't a man who pays only 
twenty-five cents to a man to whom he owes a dollar 
cheat him out of seventy-five cents ? 

Dr. Dix. Whether you can properly call it cheating 
or not depends entirely on the circumstances. Men in 
the business world sustain a very close relation to one 
another : the misfortune, folly, inefficiency, or guilt of 
one necessarily involves others in difficulties for which 



A BLACK LIST. 147 

they are in no wise responsible ; unforeseen changes in 
demand and supply often reduce one to ruin while they 
may raise another to affluence, through no fault of the 
one or merit of the other. It is for the general interest 
of all that failures from such causes should not be ir- 
retrievable, — that the unfortunate should be allowed a 
fair chance to go on in their business or to begin anew. 
By just provisions of the law and by general consent 
they are allowed to do so. 

Jonathan Tower, When I said " failing in business," 
I should have added " to make money." 

Dr. Dix. Ah, that is a very different matter. Xo 
one will dispute the dishonesty nor the meanness par- 
ticularly contemptible of that kind of " failing." Well, 
scholars, you may go on with your black list. 

Henry Phillips. Usury. 

Jane Simpson. What is usury ? 

Dr. Dix. Phillips ? 

Henry Phillips. Charging more than the legal rate 
for the use of money. 

Jane Simpson. I should n't think you could call that 
dishonest. You needn't borrow money if you don't 
want to pay what the lender asks for it. 

Henry Phillips. The trouble is, you may be obliged 
to borrow, whether you want to or not. 

Jane Simpson. Then go to some one else. 

Dr. Dix. In other words, if you don't want to be 
robbed, go to some one who will not rob you. That is 
rather a poor plea for the robber, is it not ? So the 
murderer might say of his victim, " If he did n't want 
to be killed, he should n't have come to me ; he should 
have gone to some one who would not have killed 
him." 

Henry Phillips. Besides, there might have been no 
one else who would be willing to lend. 

Jane Simpson. But is n't usury ever right ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes, there are circumstances when it might 



148 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

be justified. Suppose, for instance, a man should ask a 
loan of a person who would rather keep his money for 
other purposes than lend it at the legal rate, but who 
could afford to accept a higher rate. There would be 
nothing morally wrong in a mutual agreement satisfac- 
tory to both, unless, indeed, the borrower were of that 
improvident class who are always trying to borrow at 
ruinous rates, and who need to be protected from their 
own recklessness. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Are there not some people who 
hold that all interest is wrong ? 

Dr. Dix. It is difficult to understand the basis of 
their objection. It is, of course, more advantageous to 
me to have my money in my own possession than in that 
of another : if I submit to disadvantage for the benefit 
of another, it seems no more than equitable that I should 
be compensated. However, this may be one of the con- 
troverted topics that are ruled out of our discussions. 
Go on. 

Helen Mar. One of the worst and most cruel forms 
of dishonesty is taking advantage of the necessities of 
the poor to buy their goods or labor for less than their 
value. 

Dr. Dix. Yes : this is what we mean when we speak 
of " grinding the faces of the poor." 

Ah, when will the day come when the heart of Mercy 
will no longer be wrung by the sight of man's inhu- 
manity to man ! The poor woman in Hood's " Song 
of the Shirt " may speak for all her suffering kindred. 
Miss Mar, will you repeat the poem ? 

Dr. Dix. But sometimes it is the poor man who 
wrongs the rich man. He says to himself, " A few pen- 
nies or a few dollars are nothing to him ; but they are 
bread to me." So he feels no compunction. He wrongs 
his rich neighbor, but he wrongs himself still more. 
What is bread to his body is poison to his soul. 



A BLACK LIST. 149 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Should lie starve to death rather 
than steal ? 

Dr. Dix. Happily that is an alternative to which 
few are forced in this age, at least in this country. 
Charity, public or private, will generally come to his 
aid long before that extremity is reached. 

Susan Perkins. Not always. A few days ago I read 
of a whole family dying from starvation in the very 
heart of ]STew York city. 

Dr. Dix. I read the same account. Before they 
would call for help they were all too far gone to make 
their condition known, and it was not discovered till too 
late. Terrible as was their fate, therefore, they were 
themselves chiefly responsible for it, — not, of course, 
for the state of society that makes such extreme pov- 
erty possible. Society itself is responsible for that, 
and a fearful responsibility it is. Who knows what a 
fearful reckoning may come some day ! 

Florence Hill. That family might never have been 
able to make their condition known. Perhaps they 
would not have been believed if they had tried. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; all that is possible. 

Lucy Snow. If it was so, it was no better than mur- 
der. 

Isabelle Anthony. It was no better than murder as it 
was. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Dr. Dix, would you have blamed 
those poor people if they had stolen to save themselves 
from starvation ? 

Dr. Dix. It would be a hard heart, even if a just 
judgment (which I do not say it would be), that would 
do so. Yet if they had had the energy to steal they 
would have had the energy to beg. 

Jane Simpson. Some poor people would rather starve 
to death than either beg or steal. 

Dr. Dix. But they have no right to starve to death 
if they can prevent it. Begging is humiliating, but not 



150 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

wrong if unavoidable. Suicide, whether by starvation 
or any other means, is an immeasurably greater crime 
even than theft. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. So, if one must either starve or 
steal, it would be right for him to steal ? 

Dr. Dix. My best answer is to say that the English 
judge who not only acquitted the poor, starving woman 
who snatched a loaf of bread from a baker's stand, but 
took up a subscription in her behalf, did precisely as 
any other man with a heart in his bosom would have 
done in his place. 

But, as I said, there is little probability that any of 
you will ever be forced to choose between these terrible 
alternatives. Let us return to our list. The wealthy 
employer is not always the def rauder ; sometimes it is 
the poor laborer. How ? 

Jonathan Tower. By joining in a " strike." 

Dr. Dix. Ah, that is one of the controverted sub- 
jects that we must not discuss here. 

Jonathan Tower. I beg your pardon. By wasting 
time when working " by the day." 

Joseph Cracklin. By slighting his work when work- 
ing "by the job." 

Henry Phillips. By doing more than he knows is 
required or desired when the opportunity is given, for 
the sake of getting more pay. 

Dr. Dix. Please illustrate. 

Henry Phillips. Why, for instance, a mechanic 
sometimes puts very fine work into an article that he 
knows is to be used only for common purposes. 

Isabelle Anthony. And a doctor sometimes continues 
to make his calls upon a patient when he knows that 
his services are no longer needed. 

Dr. Dix [laughing']. I suppose the physician him- 
self must be allowed to be the best judge of that. Go 
on with your black list. 

Julia Taylor. Borrowing without intending to repay, 



A BLACK LIST. 151 

or without being reasonably sure of being able to repay, 
or carelessly neglecting to repay. 

Lucy Snow. Eeturning borrowed articles in a worse 
condition than when borrowed. 

Jonathan Tower. Borrowing goods and returning 
them when the market price has fallen. 

Thomas Dunn. Borrowing money when prices are 
low and returning it when they are high. 

Dr. Dix. That J s rather a subtle point for this place, 
is n't it, Dunn ? 

Thomas Dunn, I don't think it need be ; it is about 
the same thing Tower said. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, that is true, goods being the price of 
money. Go on. 

Frederick Fox. Coining silver. 

Dr. Dix. That topic I rule out altogether. Try once 
more. 

Frederick Fox. Making " corners in the market." 

Dr. Dix. I think I will allow that. You may ex- 
plain. 

Frederick Fox. The usual way is for capitalists to 
buy up all they can get of some article for which there 
is, or may be, a demand, store it away, and thus pro- 
duce an artificial scarcity. This brings the article up 
to an unnatural price. Articles of absolute necessity, 
such as wheat or other grains, are most often chosen 
for this purpose, because the profits are surer : men 
must have bread whatever its prices may be. It is, in 
my opinion, the most gigantic and villainous kind of 
robbery that can be committed, because by it everybody 
is robbed. 

Dr. Dix, Your language is strong ; but perhaps none 
too much so. Proceed. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Giving false returns of your prop- 
erty to escape taxes. 

Archibald Watson. Moving out of town just in sea- 
son to escape taxes. 



152 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Charles Fox. Not paying a debt until long after it 
is due, when you know that no interest will be asked 
for. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; great cruelty is often inflicted in this 
way upon poor people who are dependent on prompt 
payments. 

Isabelle Anthony. Being less careful of a hired horse 
or house than you would be of your own. 

Florence Sill. Putting the best fruit on the top of 
the barrel. 

Susan Perkins. Selling water for milk, sand for su- 
gar, and slate for coal. 

Jane Simpson. Men do worse than that ; if they 
did n't put poison in our food, we could, perhaps, tolerate 
their water, sand, and slate. 

Julia Taylor. ]STot paying your fare on the cars if 
the conductor forgets to collect it. 

Selen Mar. Wantonly injuring private or public 
property, as, for instance, whittling fences, marking on 
walls, books, etc. I heard a story once of a man who 
whittled the counter in a store. The proprietor came 
behind him and snipped off a piece from his coat. 
" What did you do that for ? " asked the whittler in 
great indignation. " This piece of cloth will just pay 
for that chip of wood," replied the proprietor. 

Sally Jones. They were both thieves, were n't they ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes, they were both thieves ; but the petty 
vandal richly deserved his loss. Go on. 

Frank Williams. Not trying to find the owner of 
anything you have found. 

George Williams. Putting a few cents' worth of 
sarsaparilla and iodide of potassium into a bottle and 
selling it for a dollar. 

Senry Phillips. Gambling. 

Joseph Cracklin. I know that gambling is wrong; 
but I don't see how you can call it actual dishonesty. 

Senry Phillips. If a man takes another man's prop- 



i 



A BLACK LIST. 153 

erty without giving him an equivalent, what else can 
it be? 

Joseph Cracklin. But he does that whenever he 
accepts a gift. 

Henry Phillips. Winnings are not gifts. 

Dr. Dix. They are not looked upon as such by either 
the loser or the winner. Until they are paid they are 
regarded as debts as truly as if they were so much bor- 
rowed money. 

Henry Phillips. They are considered even more sa- 
cred : they are called " debts of honor." 

Joseph Cracklin. But there is a sort of equivalent 
given. 

Dr. Dix. What is it ? 

Joseph Cracklin. An equal chance to win the other 
man's money. 

Henry Phillips. An equal chance to rob the other 
man of his money, that is. That does not prevent it 
from being robbery, any more than the equal chance on 
both sides to take life prevents duelling from being 
murder. 



XXIX. 
HONOR. 

Dr. Dix. My good boy — my hero sans peur et sans 
reproche — is the " soul of honor." What does that 
mean ? It means that he is honest, not because " hon- 
esty is the best policy/' but because it never occurs to 
him to be dishonest. If dishonesty were the best pol- 
icy, as some shrewd men seem to believe, if we may 
judge by their conduct, he would still be honest. It 
means that he is truthful, not because he is afraid of 
the penalty that might follow if he were detected in a 
lie, but because he loathes a lie with his whole soul : 
the very thought of it makes his lip curl with scorn. 
It means that he is generous, not because he hopes and 
expects to be rewarded for his generosity, but because 
it is as natural for him to be big-hearted as it is for an 
athlete to be broad-shouldered : he could n't be dishon- 
orable or mean any more than a giant could be a dwarf ; 
if he should try, he would n't know how to set about it. 
He will stand by a friend, not because he expects his 
friend to stand by him, but because that is the only 
thing to do : active and suggestive as his mind is, it is 
not suggestive enough to think of leaving his friend in 
the lurch. It means that he is grateful for benefits re- 
ceived, not because it would not look well to be un- 
grateful, not because men would despise him if he were 
ungrateful, but because he can't help being grateful. 

You have heard of antipathies. There are some per- 
sons who will grow faint at the sight of a spider, and 
others who will almost become wild at the sight of a 
snake. It is useless to convince them that the spider 



HOXOR. 155 

and the reptile are actually as harmless as butterflies, 
— they are not harmless to them. The soul of honor 
has a very similar antipathy to all things that are mean 
and contemptible. The soul without honor has no such 
antipathy : to it they may seem as harmless as butter- 
flies ; it might not even be able to recognize them as 
mean and contemptible except that it has learned that 
they are so regarded by others. 

The general sense of mankind is a very important 
guide to those who are below the average in honor and 
virtue : whatever they may be within their own hearts 
and souls, it enables them to preserve a certain respec- 
tability in their outward conduct. The fear of what 
others will think of them is the chief or only restraint 
upon their meanness and wickedness, unless it be the 
stronger, even more ignoble fear of what others will do 
to them. 

But though they have learned that there is a generally 
recognized standard of honor and respectability above 
their own natural standard, still they cannot believe in 
its reality : in their secret hearts they believe it is an 
artificial standard, raised from motives of general pol- 
icy. In other words, they cannot help judging others 
by themselves. Living in a valley and breathing its 
noxious gases, they cannot see the heights above them 
where others dwell in a purer atmosphere. To them 
there are no really honest men. " Every man has his 
price, if you only bid high enough." Fabricius, who 
" could no more deviate from the path of honor than 
the sun could leave his course in the heavens," is to 
them a myth, an impossibility. Boys and girls, put no 
faith in the man who believes that there is no honor in 
his fellow-men : be sure he is judging others by himself. 
There are authors who describe only villains, — they 
little know that they are only showing to the world 
their own bad hearts. Dean Swift had a clever brain, 
but a villainous heart. 



156 CHARACTER RUILD1NU. 

Lucy Snow. Is not the general sense of mankind im- 
portant to the honorable as well as to the dishonorable — 
That is not exactly what I meant to say. I meant, 
Ought not every one to regard the opinions of others ? 

Dr. Dix. Most certainly, Miss Snow. But while the 
man of honor duly values the opinion of others, he val- 
ues his own opinion of himself still more highly. 

Lucy Snoiv. What is the difference between that and 
vanity or egotism ? 

Dr. Dix. The difference is, that vanity and egotism 
are most sensitive to the opinion of others, while honor 
is most sensitive to that of self. Vanity thirsts for ad- 
miration on account of personal beauty, dress, wit, fine 
horses or houses, graceful accomplishments, etc. ; when 
the objects of the desired admiration are less frivolous, 
such as intellectual achievements, social, financial, mili- 
tary, or political power, vanity rises to ambition more 
or less laudable ; when the object is still higher, virtu- 
ous, benevolent, honorable conduct, it becomes no longer 
vanity, but a most noble and praiseworthy aspiration. 
The man of honor may feel all these in due measure, 
but high above them all is his desire for the approval 
of his own conscience and self-respect. 

To the man absolutely devoid of honor his own opin- 
ion of himself is nothing : that of others is everything, 
either on account of the love of approbation, which the 
lowest possess in some degree, or for a worse reason. 

Frank Williams. For what worse reason ? 

Dr. Dix. For the reason that a sheep's clothing some- 
times serves a wolf better than his own. 

The moral furnishings of some persons are very much 
like the household furnishings of a family I once visited 
with my father on his professional rounds, when I was 
a very small lad, so small that the family did not think 
it necessary to keep me confined in the " show rooms " 
where their other callers sat. As you will never know 
who this family were or where they lived, I do not feel 



HOXOR. 157 

that I am violating confidence in telling yon about them. 
The contrast between the k ' k ' show rooms " and the rest 
of the house was so strong that it made an indelible 
impression upon my childish mind. Such neatness and 
elegance here, such abominable dirt and squalor there ! 
Nothing, evidently, was too fine for the parlor, dining- 
room, and guest chamber, where the outer world some- 
times penetrated ; but as to the kitchen and family bed- 
rooms, what did it matter ? " No one would see them." 
Ah, how many of us furnish the secret chambers of our 
minds and hearts as richly as we furnish the parlors ? 

Most people are exceedingly lenient critics of them- 
selves ; they rarely underestimate their own wisdom, 
cleverness, or personal attractions, and as to their moral 
qualities, they generally consider them well up to the 
average. They may be conscious of having committed 
acts which they would severely condemn in others, but 
then there are always peculiarly mitigating circum- 
stances in their own cases. It is astonishing how ten- 
derly a culprit will view his own derelictions from duty. 
Surely no one else was ever so strongly tempted ; it was 
the fault of his peculiar temperament, and, pray, how 
could he help that ? Besides, what he has done was 
not so very bad, after all, under the circumstances ; 
others have done worse ; you yourself would probably 
have done the same if you had been in his situation. 
Or he may go still further and throw the blame entirely 
on some one else who put the temptation in Jus way, 
and virtually obliged him to yield to it. If men in gen- 
eral always judged others by themselves there would 
be few misanthropes ; it would be a pretty good sort of 
world, after all. 

James Murphy. What is a misanthrope, Dr. Dix ? 

Dr. Dix. Well ? 

Helen Sawyer. One who hates or despises the whole 
race of men — except himself. 

Dr. Dix. Sometimes he includes himself, but oftener 



158 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

he judges himself in the lenient way I have been de- 
scribing, and maintains the balance in his judgment by 
undue severity towards others. 

But the man of honor is his own severest critic. 
What he might pardon to the weakness or peculiar 
temptations of others he cannot pardon in himself. 
He is especially severe in regard to what he does or is 
tempted to do in secret. " Coward ! " he will say to 
himself, " would you do this thing because there is no 
eye to see you ? Shame upon you ! " 

We will suppose that a private letter falls in his 
way. He sees from the superscription that it is in- 
tended for his political rival. It probably contains in- 
formation that would be of the greatest importance to 
himself. The seal has already been broken : he might 
read it through and through, and no man but himself 
would be the wiser. Does such a thought enter his 
mind ? If so, he spurns it from him as if it were a 
venomous reptile. 

He encloses it in an envelope and addresses it to his 
rival with a polite note of explanation. The receiver 
opens it and — turns pale. His wily plans are all known ; 
he knows what human nature is, he knows what he 
would have done. As the sender has not condescended 
to make any statement, his conviction is the stronger. 

He acts upon his conviction : he informs his hench- 
men that it is all up with them, and gives his grounds 
for the information. Indirectly it comes to the ears of 
the finder of the letter that he took the dishonorable 
advantage which fortune threw in his way. What does 
he do ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. The time was when he would have 
taken the only recognized course to vindicate his honor. 

Dr. Dix. Challenged his slanderer ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Yes, Dr. Dix. 

Dr. Dix. And would that have accomplished his 
purpose ? 



HONOR. 159 

Geoffrey Jenkins. It would at least have silenced the 
tongue of slander. 

Dr. Dix. As well as his own tongue or that of his 
antagonist forever. But how would that have affected 
the fact of his real honor or dishonor ? Whatever that 
fact was, the challenge would probably have followed 
the accusation. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. It would not have affected the real 
fact in the least. 

Dr. Dix. What would he probably do in this more 
civilized age ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. He would indignantly deny the 
charge, and trust to what men already knew of his char- 
acter for the vindication of his honor. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; that would probably be all-sufficient. 
But a far better course would be to treat the accusation 
as utterly beneath the notice of the man of honor he 
professes to be. His friends — who could testify that 
whatever he might have discovered from the tempting 
document he kept scrupulously to himself — would do 
the rest. 



XXX. 
"WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY THE MICE WILL PLAY." 

Dr. Dix [entering his schoolroom late and finding it 
in disorder']. Ah, it seems that I have interrupted your 
diversions and pastimes. This sudden unnatural still- 
ness is quite oppressive. — Pray go on just as if I were 
not here. — Well, why don't you go on ? Why don't 
you throw that crayon, Cracklin, as you were intending 
to do ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Do you order me to throw it, sir ? 

Dr. Dix. By no means. I asked you to do as you 
would if I were not present. Would that justify you ? 
Would it release you from the proper penalty of your 
misconduct ? 

Joseph Cracklin. N-no, Dr. Dix. But I was not the 
only one ; the others were — 

Dr. Dix. We have already expressed our sentiments 
on the courage, manliness, and honor of throwing blame 
upon others. They will undoubtedly speak for them- 
selves. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. I threw crayons, Dr. Dix. 

Archibald Watson. And so did I. 

Jonathan Tower. And I. 

Dr. Dix. That is very well so far. " Open confes- 
sion is good for the soul." Does any one else wish to 
relieve his mind ? 

Henry Phillips. I drew that picture on the black- 
board ; but — but I was intending to rub it out before 
you came. 

Dr. Dix. And you think, I suppose, that that inten- 
tion palliates your offence. I shall allude to that kind 



THE CAT AWAY, THE MICE WILL PLAY. 161 

of palliation presently. I await further acknowledg- 
ment that any one has to make. 

Charles Fox. I called on Butters to make a speech. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; and, Butters, did you respond ? 

Trumbull Butters. No, Dr. Dix. He and the rest 
of the boys are all the time nagging me, — all except 
Dunn. He tried to keep order wfyile you were away, — 
he and some of the big girls. 

Dr. *Dix. Nagging is another subject that we shall 
do well to consider. Dunn and the " big girls " deserve, 
and hereby receive, my hearty and sincere thanks. 

Susan Perkins. I am sorry to say, Dr. Dix, that all 
the " big girls " are not altogether blameless ; I for one 
am not. I confess and apologize. 

Jane Simpson. And I wish to do the same. 

Dr. Dix. That is the most honorable thing you can 
do now, except to resolve not to offend again. Well, if 
there are no more confessions, I will now hear any fur- 
ther excuses or explanations that any one has to offer. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. We only thought we would have 
a little fun ; we did n't think there was any harm in it 
as long as you were not here. We could n't do much 
studying, you know. 

Dr. Dix. Why not ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Because — because there was so 
much noise. [Laughter. ~\ 

Dr. Dix [joining in the laugh']. If all your fun was 
as funny as that, you must have enjoyed j^ourselves ! 

Archibald Watson. But do you really think, Dr. Dix, 
there was any harm in our having a little fun as long 
as you were not here to direct our work ? 

Dr. Dix. Pun is a most excellent thing. It is one 
of the greatest blessings conferred upon our race ; it is 
good for the body, for the mind, for the heart, for the 
soul. Laugh and grow fat ; be jolly and long-lived. I 
will not yield to any one in my fondness for fun. But 
no good thing, even fun, is good at the wrong time and 



162 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

in the wrong place. The time you have given to it this 
morning belonged to work. What if I was not here ? 
When the hours of work and play were laid down for 
you no such condition was affixed as "if Dr. Dix is 
here." I may be late again, as I was this morning. 

You say, " We wanted a little fun." Who are the we ? 
It seems there were some of your number who did not 
want it, — some who " tried to keep order." They wanted 
the time for study, and they had a right to it. 'Why 
should you defraud them of their right? Your fun, 
therefore, was of the kind we spoke of some time ago, 
that which injures or annoys others. It is not unlikely 
that that fact had something to do with its being funny, 

— that and the other fact that it was in violation of the 
rules of school. Are you quite sure that if it had not 
been for these two conditions it would not have been 
rather tame fun ? 

I say, what if I was not here ? Am I to understand 
that my presence is indispensable to the performance of 
your duty ? Do you do right only because you are afraid 
of vie ? If that is the case, how do I differ from the 
policeman who stands with his billy on the corner of 
the street, and how do you differ from those»who are 
watching for him to disappear around the corner ? Is 
that why your fathers and mothers obey the civil laws, 

— "Because they are afraid of the policeman ? Is that 
why you will obey the civil laws when you in your turn 
become men and women ? School is a civil community 
on a small scale ; it is governed by its laws just as the 
state and the city are governed by their laws. If you 
need a teacher-policeman to keep you from small viola- 
tions of law here, what guarantee have we that you will 
not need a rougher policeman to keep you from greater 
offences and harsher penalties hereafter ? 

Susan Perkins. Dr. Dix, we need your presence here, 
not because we are afraid of the punishments you may 
inflict, but because we are afraid of displeasing you. 



THE CAT AWAY, THE MICE WILL PLAY. 163 

Dr. Dix. It is very gratifying to hear you say so ; 
still, the principle is the same, for my displeasure is a 
punishment to those who care for it. I believe you all 
do care for it, and for this time it shall be your only 
punishment, — at least the only one / shall inflict. 

But I wish you to observe that I have more than 
ordinary reason to be displeased. Have you forgotten 
our last Talk ? What was its subject ? 

Several Voices. Honor. 

Dr. Dix. Your lowered tones and your downcast 
eyes show how you think you have illustrated that 
subject this morning. Does the man of honor need a 
policeman to keep him to his duty ? What cares he for 
a policeman, whom a whole regiment with fixed bayo- 
nets could not drive from the path of duty ! 

As I said a long time ago, I cannot expect that one 
Talk or a hundred will work a complete transforma- 
tion. Character is a structure that is slow in building ; 
but it is all the more solid when built. But may I not 
hope that both our Talk and the practical lesson of this 
morning may do something to strengthen the principle 
of Hoxor in this school ? 



XXXI. 
NAGGING. 

Dr. Dix. I promised to speak of nagging. The 
glances of resentment and strong disapproval which 
were directed to the boy who publicly reported his griev- 
ance did not escape my notice. u The boys are all the 
time nagging me/' he says. Perhaps you think, boys, 
he was not honorable in reporting you. Well, since 
" honor is the subject of my story/' let us consider his 
course and yours from that standpoint. 

In the first place, I wish to give you full credit for the 
manly courage and promptness with which you reported 
your own misconduct, and, girls, I pay a like tribute to 
your womanly courage and promptness. 

The young man in question acted the part of an 
informer, a talebearer ; hence your glances of scornful 
disapproval. I think I understand your feelings. I was 
a boy myself once ; I did not spring into an existence 
of full maturity, like Minerva from the brain of Jove. 
And I have not forgotten how I felt when I was a boy ; 
so I suppose you are willing to admit my competency 
to discuss this matter with you. ■ 

I say I have not forgotten how I felt when I was a 
boy. Why don't I feel in the same way now that I am 
a man ? Is it because I have grown less generous and 
honorable ? I should be sorry indeed to believe so. Is 
it because my judgment is less clear ? I can hardly 
believe that, since judgment is one of those faculties 
which are usually most strengthened by years and ex- 
perience. No ; my philosophy is, that boys develop 
unsymmetrically in their judgment and sentiments, just 



NAGGING. 165 

as they do in their bodies. While they are growing, 
sometimes their legs and arms are too long for their 
bodies and sometimes they are too short ; sometimes their 
hands and feet are too large and their shoulders too 
narrow, or they are otherwise ,/; out of drawing." Xever 
mind ; healthy maturity will bring symmetry, or at least 
an approach to it. There are similar disproportions in 
growing minds and hearts, which full healthy maturity 
will go far to correct. The imagination and fancy, for 
example, like the legs, are too long, while the reason 
and judgment, like the body, are too short. "The 
Bloody Scalper of the Plains n is the ideal hero, who 
will hereafter subside into the vulgar criminal he is. 
But especially is the immature sense of honor out of 
proportion. I know of scarcely anything more gro- 
tesque in the whole range of human nature than the 
average boy's notion of certain points of honor. Don't 
feel hurt, boys ; I don't include all points of honor, by 
any means. On some of the most important, boys are 
generally admirably strong and sound. On none are 
they more utterly absurd than the whole human race, 
young and old, has been time and again. As the biolo- 
gists say, the life-history of the race is repeated in that 
of the individual. Our race has passed through its in- 
fancy and childhood ; but whether it has fully emerged 
from its boyhood is a question that can be determined 
only by comparing its present with its future develop- 
ment. Surely no boys' code of honor could be more 
thoroughly wanting in the first principles of true honor 
or common sense than that which has been especially 
dignified by that title. 

But I think the individual case we now have in hand 
will illustrate some of the points of honor on which 
boys as a class are not always particularly strong and 
sound. Let us consider the facts. 

Butters told me nothing that I did not already know. 
I am not quite deaf nor quite blind. I see and hear 



166 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

more, perhaps, than you think. The only question I 
was in doubt about was, whether your continual u nag- 
ging " really troubled him. He bore it with such good- 
natured indifference, so far as I could see at least, that 
perhaps you were in equal uncertainty with myself in 
regard to its actual effect upon him. 

Archibald Watson. No, Dr. Dix ; we knew it really 
plagued him, or we should not have kept it up. 

Dr. Dix. Ah, then I must give you credit for clearer 
perceptions than my own. And yet I might have 
known, for the advice I always give in such cases is, 
let them see that you don't care for their nonsense, 
and they will soon tire of it. That is precisely what I 
thought Butters was doing, and I rather wondered why 
the usual effect did not follow. But then I knew how 
persevering boys are in such matters ; if they showed 
a like perseverance in a worthier cause we should see 
better results on Promotion Day. 

Let us return to our facts. You " knew it plagued 
him," and therefore you " kept it up." Could w T e have 
a better illustration of the kind of fun you have all 
agreed with me in condemning ? Is it in accordance 
with the boys' code of honor ? 

I wish it had not plagued him. There are some 
strong natures that really care no more for such petty 
persecution than for the buzzing of flies. But we can- 
not all be like them. Because the elephant's hide is 
impervious to the mosquito, the same does not follow of 
the horse's hide or even of the tiger's. 

Trumbull Butters. But boys are bigger than mos- 
quitoes, — some of them are bigger than I am. They 
would n't have nagged me so much if they were n't. 
\_L aught er.~\ 

Dr. Dix. A palpable hit, Butters. You seem able 
to defend yourself with your tongue, at least. 

Trumbull Butters. I think I could defend myself if 
they did n't all side against me. Twenty to one is too 
big odds. 



XAGGING. 167 

Dr. Dix. That deserves generous applause, boys. 
. . . There, that will do for the present. 

Trumbull Butters. They don't mean it for applause, 
Dr. Dix ; it 's only some more of their foolish nonsense. 
But /don't care for 'em. 

Dr. Dix. ISTo ; you 're wrong there, Butters. That 
was genuine, — was it not, boys ? 

Chorus. Yes, Dr. Dix. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Well, I will let him alone here- 
after. I should have been willing to apologize for my 
share of it, if he hadn't peached. 

Dr. Dix. No, Jenkins ; I beg your pardon, you would 
have -done nothing of the sort. If he had not done ex- 
actly what he did do, you would have gone on indefi- 
nitely with the rest of the " twenty against one." Why 
should n't he " peach," as you call it ? What other de- 
fence had he against your continued annoyance ? As he 
himself has so justly and pertinently said, there were 
too big odds against him to attempt his own defence. 

Geoffrey Jenkins [sullenly']. If he had wanted it, we 
would have given him fair play. 

Dr. Dix. You mean that you would have made a 
ring and let him fight it out with you, one by one ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Y-yes, Dr. Dix [suddenly coloring] 
— I — I did n't mean that — I " — 

Dr. Dix. Ah, I see you have some wholesome recol- 
lections of the past. Well, this becoming exhibition of 
feeling encourages me to believe that our Talks have 
not been entirety without effect. 

Suppose these battles had been fought, even if But- 
ters would have been justified in his share, — which, 
mark, I do not necessarily admit, but I need not tell 
you on which side my sympathies would have been, — 
what would you think of your own share in them ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. I — I take back what I said. 

Trumbull Butters. I offered to fight 'em more than 
once, big as they are ; but they would n't fight, — they 
only guyed me worse than ever. 



168 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. Evidently our Talk on that subject has not 
converted you. 

Trumbull Butters [disconsolately^. You told us that 
returning good for evil would make them ashamed. I 
honestly tried that for a while ; but it did n't seem to 
do any good. Then I thought I would try the other 
way. 

Dr. Dix. You did n't try long enough. It did more 
good than you thought. There ? s not one of your tor- 
mentors who is not thoroughly ashamecj. at this moment, 
down in his secret heart. I challenge one of them to 
deny it. What do you say, Watson ? 

Archibald Watson. I never saw him try to return 
much " good for evil." He was always talking about 
fighting, but nobody supposed he really meant it. 

Trumbull Butters [valor ously~\. They would have 
found out whether I meant it or not if they had tried. 
[Derisive laughter, which the Doctor instantly checks. ,] 

Dr. Dix. I suspect, Butters, that your attempt to 
overcome evil with good was rather feeble and short. 
I am thankful, however, that there was an attempt. I 
shall never cease trying so long as there is so much 
fruit as this. Come, my boy, you are now the only ob- 
stacle to a complete reconciliation. The boys have al- 
ready advanced a long way to meet you ; but you have 
not as yet yielded an inch. As long as you maintain 
this hostile and implacable attitude you cannot expect 
them to advance much further. 

Trumbull Butters. I am willing to be friends if they 
are. 

Dr. Dix. Then we '11 have no more talk about fight- 
ing. I say, boys, why shouldn't your victim peach? 
Under what possible moral obligation was he to endure 
your abuse day after day and week after week ? Give 
him credit for the long time he endured it before he did 
peach. When your fathers and mothers are wronged, 
they do not wait until they can endure it no longei 



NAGGING. 169 

before they appeal to the proper authorities for protec- 
tion and redress. 

Archibald Watson. They would n't mind a little nag- 
ging- 

Dr. Dix. In the first place, we are not talking about 

a little nagging ; and in the next, grown-up men and 
women do not often indulge in such amusement, — their 
sense of honor is usually developed beyond that point. 
Of course you understand I am speaking of respectable 
men and women, as you are of respectable boys and 
girls. 

I will leave it to your own consciences and to the in- 
fluence of our past Talks to decide whether the joining 
of twenty against one — with the knowledge that that 
one could not defend himself by his own unaided power, 
and with the belief that in deference to the boys' code 
of honor he would not inform against you — was gener- 
ous or mean, manly or unmanly, chivalrous or dastardly, 
brave or cowardly, honorable or dishonorable. 

Now, a few words on the subject of nagging in gen- 
eral. When there is fair play, and when it is not carried 
to the extent of being really a serious annoyance, it is 
not an unmitigated evil. If one is too thin-skinned, it 
may be an excellent remedy. Socrates, as you know, 
placed a very high value upon one species of it as a 
means of discipline. But the option should always be 
allowed the subject of the remedy as to whether it shall 
be applied or not. If he is sensible, he will submit to it 
with a good grace and return the favor for the benefit 
of his physician, who should submit with equally good 
grace. If he is not sensible enough to do this, no one 
has the moral right to force it upon him. 

Joking at other people's expense is often very funny, 
and the victims are often as much amused as others. 
Sometimes, however, it is far otherwise ; you cannot 
always tell how deep the wound is under the indifferent 
or smiling exterior. If this kind of joking becomes a 



170 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

habit, like all other habits it will grow until, before he is 
aware, the joker may have become intolerable to all his 
acquaintances. Intimate friends among boys, and girls 
too, are especially liable to the habit : they sometimes 
carry it to such an excess that nearly everything they 
say to each other is some sort of disparaging joke. 

All this may be very entertaining up to a certain 
point, but gradually the little stings, which at first only 
tickled the skin, begin to reach the quick. ]Sever let 
your fun go as far as this. Watch yourselves. Ke- 
member that too much of a good thing is often worse 
than none of it. If you find that pretty nearly every- 
thing your friend does or says suggests to you some 
unpleasant witticism at his expense, stop short ; forego 
for a while those stale, vulgar old insinuations in regard 
to his miraculous gastronomic powers or the superiority 
of his pedal over his cerebral development. [Laugh- 
ter."] Let your next words to him be something really 
agreeable : you have no idea how refreshing and de- 
lightful you will both find the change. 

On the other hand, don't be oversensitive. Some 
persons have the notion that extreme sensitiveness is 
an indication of extreme refinement. It is more often a 
sign of extreme selfishness and egotism. It is only 
what offends themselves that excites their super-refined 
resentment ; the nerves of others may be rasped to any 
extent in their sight and hearing without disturbing 
them very seriously. And, above all, don't be that par- 
ticularly unlovable character that is always ready to 
give a thrust, but never ready to receive one. 



XXXII. 
INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS. 

Dr. Dix. Among the habits of the highest impor- 
tance, from its effects upon health of body, mind, and 
heart, upon happiness and prosperity, is the habit of 
industry. 

Perfect health is that condition in which all the func- 
tions of body, mind, and heart are in harmonious action, 
in perfect harmony with their environments. 

Henry Jones. What are environments and func- 
tions ? 

Dr. Dix. Well? 

Helen Mar. Environments are surroundings : all 
things outside of us with which we have anything to 
do are our environments. Functions are offices to per- 
form, things to do. For instance, the function of the 
legs is to walk and run ; that of the eyes is to see ; that 
of the brain is to think. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, and if any part of us does not per- 
form its proper function it speedily loses its health and 
power. If the legs do not walk or run, they shrivel. 
Look at the poor cripple who rides every day through 
the streets upon his " velociman." If the eyes do not 
exercise their power of sight, they eventually lose it. 

Activity, then, is an indispensable condition both to 
health and happiness, — continued and regular activity; 
that is, industry. 

No wish is more often felt and uttered than the wish 
for money enough to live without labor. Do those who 
so often feel and express this wish know what it really 
means ? It means for most people a wish to lose the 



172 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

only thing which forces them to be healthy and happy. 
That lost, all that would remain would be their own 
sense of the usefulness of effort and their resolution to 
continue it in spite of its irksomeness. Do they know 
how efficient that sense and that resolution would be ? 
Let them try a very simple experiment : let them re- 
solve to take a mile walk every morning simply for its 
healthfulness. Hundreds and thousands of people do 
cvy this experiment, but I will venture to say that not 
one in a hundred continues it year after year. It works 
very well for a while, but gradually it gets to be less 
interesting, then somewhat of a bore, then most decid- 
edly a bore; then a morning is omitted occasionally, 
then every alternate morning is omitted, — then the 
walk is taken only on very pleasant mornings, and 
finally it is dropped altogether in disgust. Indolence 
with its present ease and future penalties is preferred 
to industry with its present irksomeness and future re- 
wards. So the muscles are allowed to grow flabby, and 
the vitals to grow sickly and feeble. 

Such is the usual end of labor performed for the sole 
purpose of benefiting the health. But suppose the mile 
walk is a matter of necessity, to take a man from his 
home to his office, shop, or school. Unless it increases 
the tax upon his powers beyond the limit of health- 
fulness, — which is, of course, possible, — who but the 
incorrigibly lazy man ever thinks of it as other than a 
pleasant and wholesome variety to his life of enforced 
effort ? 

Joseph Cracldin. The loss of the advantage of being 
obliged to work for a living may be a great loss, but I 
don't believe the person ever lived who could not easily 
be reconciled to it. I think I could bear it myself with- 
out repining. 

Dr. Dix. I have no doubt of it, Cracklin. If such a 
misfortune should befall me, I don't think I should be 
utterly inconsolable. But neither good nor bad fortune 



INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPP1XESS. 173 

is to be measured by the present rejoicing or mourning 
it occasions. Children often cry for what their wiser 
parents know will not be good for them. The wisest 
of us are but children of a larger growth, and it is well 
for us that we have not the ordering of our own for- 
tunes. Both you and I might bitterly lament at a later 
day what we now might look upon as the best of good 
fortune. 

Joseph Cracklin. Nevertheless I should be perfectly 
willing to take the risk. 

Dr. Dix. You may have the opportunity. There 's 
no knowing. And it might not, after all, prove a mis- 
fortune to you. All would depend upon your character, 
— the stuff you are made of. But however it might be 
in your individual case, with the majority the effect is 
more or less disastrous. Let us suppose a by no means 
unusual instance : — 

One of the millions who sigh so eagerly for that great- 
est of all blessings, a fortune, suddenly falls into one. 
Ah, now he is going to be happy; no more grinding 
labor for him ; he is now going to live a life of elegant 
ease, of luxury, of " style." He is not going to be abso- 
lutely idle, of course, — he understands that occupation 
of some sort is necessary to his health ; but now he can 
choose his occupation, — he is no longer forced to toil 
at his former uncongenial employment ; he is going to 
improve his mind and his taste, — perhaps, now and 
then, he may even do some sort of work that is useful 
to others. 

Well, he begins his new life with great enthusiasm. 
But somehow or other it does not prove just what he 
expected. He finds that improving his mind and taste is 
not so agreeable an occupation as he thought it was going 
to be : there is hard work in it that he had not counted 
on. He still finds it easier to read a cheap novel than 
a good one, a history, an essay, or a poem. He meant to 
study music and art ; but his wealth does not diminish 



174 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

one iota the irksomeness of the laborious beginnings. 
To his dismay, he finds that the same is true of all the 
best things he looked forward to with such delight- 
ful anticipations ; they all cost hard work. The mere 
consciousness of his wealth, at first a delight in itself, 
soon loses the charm of novelty, and with it its power 
to delight, — all things do that, scholars, which are in 
themselves unchanging, and which demand no effort 
of mind, heart, or body ; the social position which his 
wealth gives him, that at least to which he aspires, can 
be maintained only by the cultivation of those graces 
which require work, work as hard as that from which 
his wealth delivered him, — ay, harder, for that he per- 
formed under the stimulus of necessity, while this costs 
the effort of resolution. 

Stronger and stronger the inclination grows upon him 
to do that which is agreeable in the doing, leaving the 
consequences to take care of themselves. Why should 
n't he follow his inclination? What is there to pre- 
vent ? Has n't he money enough to do as he likes ? 
And so it is the story of the mile walk over again. 
His muscles, once hard and strong, become flaccid and 
shrunken; his mind, once full of energy and vigorous 
interest in his honest labor, becomes vacant and list- 
less ; the days, once too short for the unappreciated 
happiness that filled them, become long and tedious ; 
the nights, once almost unknown to his consciousness, 
are even worse than the days, — fortunate, indeed, is he 
if their weariness is not beguiled with the vices that 
lead by the shortest path to ruin of body and soul. 

The bitter " Curse of Nature " has been removed, 
but a bitterer curse has taken its place ; the grievous 
burden of labor has been lifted from his shoulders, but 
a heavier burden has fallen thereon. 

Julia Taylor. But the bitterer curse and the heavier 
burden do not always follow : did n't you say it depends 
on the character of the individual ? 



INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS. 175 

Dr. Dix. Yes, Miss Taylor, and I repeat it. I have 
told you the story of multitudes who have been lucky 
enough to come into a fortune through no effort or merit 
of their own. 

Charles Fox. Why should n't the same results fol- 
low, even if the fortune was acquired by their own ef- 
forts ? 

Dr. Dix. Because the habits of industry and energy 
which were necessary to acquire the fortune are gener- 
ally too firmly fixed to be easily dropped. 

Charles Fox. But the necessity to labor has been re- 
moved in either case. 

Dr. Dix. No. To one who has acquired through his 
own effort there is an ever-increasing necessity to ac- 
quire more, while the free gifts of Fortune are usually 
large enough to satisfy the ambition undeveloped by 
effort. " What comes easily goes easily." The only use 
of unearned money is to be freely spent. 

I have told you the story of multitudes who have 
been lucky enough to come into a fortune through no 
effort or merit of their own. It is not the story of all. 
To some strong, noble natures suddenly-acquired wealth 
proves really a blessing, and not a curse, but it is not 
because it relieves them from the necessity of labor. 
Industrious before, they are now still more industrious, 
if possible, and in a broader field. They are not obliged 
to toil for their daily bread, but there are other neces- 
sities which to them are more urgent than hunger or 
thirst. There is a hunger of the mind which impels to 
effort the day laborer knows not of ; there is a thirst 
of the soul which can be satisfied only by a life of pa- 
tient industry in the cause of human welfare. 



XXXIII. 
INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS, CONTINUED. 

Helen Sawyer, It does n't seem to me that the neces- 
sity to work for a living is indispensable to either health 
or happiness, notwithstanding the Talk of last week. 

Dr. Dix [smiling^. I have sometimes complained 
that you young people do not generalize enough. Here 
is an instance of too wide generalizing. What we said 
last week of the majority, Miss Sawyer evidently un- 
derstood us to apply to all. If she had paid a little 
closer attention, or if she had remembered more accu- 
rately, she would not have ignored the important excep- 
tions we were so particular to make. 

Helen Sawyer. But it seems to me that there are a 
great many more exceptions than were mentioned. I 
know plenty of people who, I am sure, never earned a 
dollar in their lives and who never needed to earn 
a dollar, and yet they are healthy and happy enough, 
so far as I can see. They always seem to have enough 
to do, too : what with reading, writing letters, travel- 
ling, yachting, driving, going to the opera, playing ten- 
nis, visiting, and attending parties, their time seems to 
be pretty well occupied. And they are so bright and 
rosy, too, — at least some of them, — so full of life and 
spirits. I don't see what good it would do them to have 
to work for a living. I can't help thinking it would 
only make them dull and stupid ; at any rate, that it 
would take a good deal of the brightness out of their 
lives. 

Dr. Dix. You have drawn a most charming picture, 
Miss Sawyer. It seems an ungracious task to paint out 



INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS. Ill 

any of those brilliant colors. And yet if the picture 
is to be true to life I fear it must be done. I must be 
the ogre in your paradise. 

Joseph Cracklin. In her " fool's paradise." 

Helen Sawyer [with spirit~\. He would like to be 
one of the fools, all the same. We all heard him say 
so. \_Laughter.~\ 

Dr. Dix. Well, if you two have finished your passage 
at arms, the ogre will proceed with his ungracious task. 

If the experience of all mankind has established one 
principle more firmly than another, it is that a life de- 
voted solely to pleasure-seeking is the one most likely 
to fail in its object. Such a life will do well enough 
for the butterfly, — it seems to be what it is made for ; 
but man was made for a different purpose, a purpose 
immeasurably nobler and higher, — a purpose upon 
which not only his usefulness, but his health and hap- 
piness depend. He is endowed with faculties and en- 
ergies which call for action, as his stomach calls for 
food, as his lungs call for air. If they are denied action 
they will starve. Mere pleasure is not their proper 
food nor their proper air ; it is only their confectionery 
and their wine. Hence a life devoted to pleasure is a 
life of mental and moral starvation. 

All that Miss Sawyer and the rest of us have observed 
may be true, so far as external seeming goes. Xature 
adapts herself wonderfully to circumstances. She will 
endure the violation of her laws for years, sometimes, 
without apparent penalty. Throughout the years of 
youth she is particularly forbearing. But the penalty 
is none the less sure because it is delayed. It is an 
infallible law that no pleasure is enduring that costs no 
effort of mind or body. 

Helen Sawyer. But some of the pleasures I have 
mentioned do cost effort, and plenty of it. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, I was coming to that. I was about to 
say that even those whose sole object in life is pleasure 



178 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

have discovered the law, and hence some of their plea- 
sures call into vigorous play certain powers of mind and 
body ; in certain instances they even cost severe and 
irksome labor in preparation. These pleasures, I scarcely 
need say, are the longest-lived of all. But even these 
fail after a time, because their object is not high and 
noble enough to last. 

You have described the votaries of pleasure as they 
appear to you. But you see them only, perhaps, while 
their pleasures are yet new, before they have lost their 
charm. Seek them out a few years later, when they 
have withdrawn from the society that no longer inter- 
ests them ; when the wine of pleasure has lost its effer- 
vescence, and their jaded appetites find no substitutes 
for the sweetmeats that have lost their taste. Their 
powers, unused to effort, save for that which no longer 
pleases, refuse to be aroused by less stimulating objects : 
they cannot read, for the sensational novel is to them 
no longer sensational ; they cannot work, for labor is 
even more insupportable than ennui. In short, they 
are " the most mournful and yet the most contemptible 
wrecks to be found along the shores of life." 

Helen Sawyer. Oh, Dr. Dix, what a terrible ruin 
you have made of my " charming picture " ! And is 
that to be the fate of all those delightful people ? 

Dr. Dix. I truly hope that it may be the fate of no 
one of them ! I truly hope that the mere butterfly's 
life may satisfy no one of them for even one year of 
their bright, vigorous youth ! Their travelling and 
their sailing, their opera-going and their tennis-playing, 
and all the rest of their round of elegant pleasures are 
most excellent in themselves, — would that every human 
being could have his share ! — but they are excellent 
only as diversions, never as the regular business of life. 

To those who are not destined by Fate to labor for 
their daily bread, let me say, Do not be disheartened. 
[Laughter.'] Bread is not the only thing worth labor- 



INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS. 179 

ing for. Though you may be possessed of millions, 
there are yet objects enough in life to call forth all 
your powers of mind and body. Xay, it is in your 
power to count the bounties of Fortune among your 
greatest and truest blessings : rightly used, almost 
nothing else will so broaden your field of noble activi- 
ties. 

Archibald Watson. If work is so good for us, I 
don't see why it was made so disagreeable. 

Dr. Dix. Here is another example of too wide gen- 
eralizing. What is true of some work to some workers 
you have no right to predicate of all work to all work- 
ers. Aversion to labor is a frequent but not a universal 
feeling ; nor is it normal in those to whom Xature has 
given the ability to labor. The beaver shows no dislike 
for his laborious task, nor the ant, nor the bee, nor the 
winged nest-builders. The change from an abnormal to 
a normal condition is often a disagreeable process, as 
every physician knows. Learning to like labor is such 
a process. Strength is gained only by overcoming re- 
sistance : if we had not always had gravity to overcome, 
none of us would have the strength to stand erect 
against it to-day, and the effort to do so would have 
been disagreeable. There is no greater or more obsti- 
nate resistance to overcome than our own indolence : 
while the process of overcoming it continues, all kinds 
of effort are disagreeable, but no longer. To man in his 
normal condition work in proper amount is no more dis- 
agreeable than to the beaver or to the bee. On the con- 
trary, he finds in it his keenest pleasure ; a pleasure, 
too, that, unlike the pleasures of passive indulgence, 
never loses its zest while the ability to labor lasts. 

Frederick Fox. That may be true of some kinds of 
work. I can understand how the artist and the writer, 
who are gaining fresh laurels with every new achieve- 
ment, or the merchant and the manufacturer, who are 
continually adding to their wealth, may enjoy their 



180 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

labor. But how can the man who does the same thing 
day after day for each day's bread help finding his toil 
disagreeable ? Do you suppose anybody ever did enjoy 
his daily promenade in the treadmill ? 

Dr. Dix. Probably not. Certainly not when, as is 
too often true, that " daily promenade " demands all 
his waking hours. But those are not the conditions of 
labor brought about by Nature's beneficent design. We 
are not now speaking of the abuse of labor, but of labor 
under normal conditions. Under such conditions its 
humblest form might be a pleasure as well as a benefit 
to the laborer. Why should not the artisan feel the 
same pride and enthusiasm that his more aristocratic 
kinsman, the artist, feels in making his work the very 
best possible ? That is the feeling of every man who 
enjoys his labor, — the artistic impulse. The stone- 
cutter, for instance, may take the same kind of interest 
in making his rough ashlar true and smooth that the 
sculptor takes in moulding the exquisite features of his 
Venus or of his Apollo : the difference is only in degree. 
I am not so disposed as many are to ridicule the cus- 
tom of certain people in comparatively humble employ- 
ments to call themselves " artists." If the ambitious 
title will only stimulate them to do their very best to 
raise their employments to the dignity of arts, so much 
the better for their customers as well as for themselves. 

Jonathan Tower. Would you include bootblacks ? 

Dr. Dix. Why not ? There is a wide range of skill 
in the blacking of boots, from that which covers them 
with a coarse, fibrous, lustreless paste to that which 
changes them to polished ebony. I tell you, I have 
seen an artistic zeal and pride in his work in a shabby, 
grimy little street Arab which would have redeemed 
many an ambitious canvas from ignoble failure. 

Surely this class of laborers are far more entitled to 
respect and sympathy than their opposites. I sincerely 
hope no one among you will ever look down upon his 



INDUSTRY, WEALTH, HAPPINESS. 181 

business, however humble it may be in general estima- 
tion. If what you do is of real service and benefit to 
any fellow-creature, your position in life is immeasura- 
bly above that of the mere pleasure-seeker, though he 
live in a palace and wear a crown of diamonds upon his 
brow. 

Yes, the pen and the pencil, the hammer and the 
needle, even the pick and the spade are more honorable 
in human hands than the jewelled fan or the gracefully 
brandished walking-stick. If justice were done, the 
idler, whatever his station, would doff his hat to the 
humblest laborer. " He has the right to live in a world 
that is better for his living in it," he would reflect ; "he 
has the right to hold up his head in the proud con- 
sciousness that he has earned the coarse bread he eats 
and the humble clothes he wears. But what of me, 
whose only use in life is to consume what he and his 
fellow-toilers have produced ? " And the reflection 
should impel him, in deference to his own self-respect, 
to be no longer a mere parasite on human industry. 



XXXIV. 
VOCATION, VACATION, AND AVOCATION. 

Helen Mar. It seems to me, Dr. Dix, that there is 
more complaint nowadays against too much than against 
too little industry. Americans, in particular, are said 
to work too hard rather than not hard enough. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, Miss Mar, there is wrong and ruin in 
excess as well as in deficiency. " Drive neither too 
high nor too low," was the sun-god's advice to Phaeton. 
" In medio tutissimus ibis." x It is not enough that the 
engine of life be amply supplied with steam ; there 
must be a wise engineer in the cab to turn it on and 
shut it off as occasion requires. Without him the en- 
gine will either not move or it will rush on to its own 
destruction. Activity is indispensable to health and 
happiness ; but it must be regulated by wisdom and 
conscience. Alternate labor and rest is nature's law. 

Jonathan Tower. How shall we know when we have 
done work enough ? 

Dr. Dix. It will not be difficult to decide. The pen- 
alties of overwork are as plain as are those of idleness. 
Nature is a faithful sentinel, and she gives her warn- 
ings with no uncertain sound. The loss of cheerful- 
ness, of elasticity, the growing sense of weariness which 
the night's broken slumbers do not dispel, are unmis- 
takable warnings. If these are not heeded, others will 
come which must be heeded ; if rest is not taken as a 
sweet reward, it will be enforced as a bitter punishment. 

It is not long now, scholars, before vacation. The 
old-fashioned advice was, not to lay aside your books. 

1 Thou wilt go safest in the middle course. 



VOCATION, VACATION, AND AVOCATION. 183 

Teachers and school trustees are wiser now. " Lay 
them aside," we say, " and don't touch them again till 
vacation is over." 

But that does not mean, Spend your days in utter 
idleness. Many students make that unhappy mistake. 
They congratulate themselves on having finished, for a 
time, their mental toil, and promise themselves the lux- 
ury of complete mental rest. They soon find, however, 
that rest is a luxury only while it is rest. As soon as 
the faculties have fully recovered from their weariness, 
if new and vigorous employments do not take the place 
of the labors of school, they find that rest degenerates 
into that ennui which I have already described as the 
permanent curse of the habitual idler. Nay, they find 
it even more insupportable than the habitual idler finds 
it, for inaction is in any degree tolerable only to powers 
which are torpid by nature or by habit. 

Jonathan Tower. Then how shall we spend our va- 
cations ? 

Dr. Dix. Spend them in such a manner as to give 
yourselves the maximum of rest, health, and happiness, 
in such a manner as best to fit } r ourselves for the faith- 
ful, vigorous performance of the next year's work. 
That is the best rule I can give you. 

Jonathan Tower. But how shall we do that ? 

Dr. Dix. In different ways, according to circum- 
stances, opportunities, tastes, and dispositions. There 
are few definite rules I can give you that will fit all 
cases. To those who are not actual invalids the only 
true rest is a change rather than a cessation of action. 
To the healthy mind and body there is no harder work 
than continued inaction. Each day nature supplies a 
certain amount of nervous energy, which demands an 
outlet in some direction. If it does not find that outlet 
it accumulates, and creates a growing sense of uneasi- 
ness : few maladies are harder to bear than what is 
known as the Lazy Man's Dyspepsia. 



184 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

In order to be interesting and satisfying, the employ- 
ments of vacation need to be systematized as well as 
those of vocation. To depend upon the caprices of each 
day for each day's occupations will do well enough for 
a while ; but soon the question, Well, what shall we do 
to-day ? becomes the dreaded bugbear of each successive 
morning. Plan for yourselves, then, some sort of sys- 
tematic employment that shall take a good part of your 
vacation. It matters little what it is, so long as it is 
honest, harmless, interesting, and as unlike your regu- 
lar work as you can make it. This last condition is 
especially important ; — your vacation employment 
should be literally an a-vocation, a call away from your 
vocation. Your daily instalment of nervous energy will 
then neither call into action those brain-cells or those 
muscles which are already exhausted, nor will it accu- 
mulate upon and congest your nerve centres, as it would 
do in complete and continued idleness, but it will find a 
safe and delightful outlet through a different set of 
brain-cells or a different set of muscles. 

Jonathan Tower. What avocations would you re- 
commend for us ? 

Dr. Dix. Oh, there is a long list. Some of them 
Miss Sawyer has already mentioned. I believe she be- 
gan with 

READING. 

To a student, reading as an avocation should be on 
subjects different from those he is studying at school. 
Should it, therefore, involve no study ? We will sup- 
pose its sole purpose is to give rest and pleasure to the 
tired brain. What a delightful sound there is to that 
well-worn phrase, " Summer Reading " ! What charm- 
ing pictures it calls up of luxurious hammocks on 
breezy piazzas, or of shady nooks beside mountain rivu- 
lets ! " I want something that I can read without the 
least effort," you say to yourself as you make your se- 



VOCATION, VACATION, AXD AVOCATION. 185 

lection. " something that will carry me along by its 
own power.*' And so yon gather up a score, more or 
less, of the freshest, spiciest novels, and nothing else. 
Essays yon abominate ; histories you eschew utterly ; 
poems are a little better, but they require closer atten- 
tion than you feel like giving in vacation : so your stock 
of mental pabulum consists entirely of literary caramels 
and comfits and bottles of literary champagne, with 
something stronger for an occasional intellectual ca- 
rouse. 

Now, the natural and desired effect of healthful rest 
is to invigorate, to render brain and body better fitted 
for labor ; nay. to give them a renewed appetite and 
relish for labor. How a good night's sleep sweetens 
that which the night before was a dreary task ! Well, 
your summer vacation is over, your score, more or less, 
of novels have been read, and you resume your studies. 
How much do you find your mind rested, applying the 
test I have named ? how much keener is your relish for 
your trigonometry and your political economy than it 
was before vacation ? 

Helen Sawyer. I have done almost exactly what you 
have described, over and over again, and I don't remem- 
ber that my school studies seemed any more distasteful 
on account of the novels. 

Dr. Dice. Neither you nor I can ever know how they 
would have seemed to you. if you had not done exactly 
what I described, "over and over again.*' Most pupils 
perform duties at school cheerfully that they could not 
be induced to perform anywhere else ; the stimulus of 
competition carries many through studies that would 
otherwise be intolerably distasteful. Let me ask you 
how your long and uninterrupted courses of novel-read- 
ing have affected your taste for other kinds of reading ? 
how do you enjoy an elaborate magazine essay, for in- 
stance ? how do you like McMaster's United States or 
Macaulay's England ? 



186 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Helen Saivyer. To be candid, I never read such 
things : I have history enough in school, and magazine 
essays are generally altogether beyond my feeble com- 
prehension. 

Dr. Dix. Oh, no, Miss Sawyer, not beyond your 
comprehension, for you easily comprehend things here 
in school, quite as difficult and abstruse as anything in 
the average magazine article ; what you meant to say is, 
that they are beyond your inclination. 

Now I am not going to make an uncompromising at- 
tack upon novel-reading. If I should condemn it ut- 
terly I should only exhibit myself as a narrow-minded 
bigot. So long as the novel keeps its place, — the good 
novel, I mean, — it is one of the very best things in 
life. It is only when it usurps the place of other kinds 
of reading that it becomes a positive evil. But I think 
I am not extravagant when I say that, with the average 
mind, its inevitable tendency is to usurp the place of 
all other kinds of reading. Almost every librarian will 
tell you that the majority of his readers take scarcely 
anything but novels. 

Helen Sawyer. Well, suppose what the librarians 
say is true, — do not their readers find in their novels 
much truth, much valuable instruction, especially in re- 
gard to human life, motives, and character ? Is it not 
the novelist's peculiar province to — to unveil the hu- 
man mind and heart ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes, that is, or should be, the novelist's 
highest aim. If fiction were generally studied by the 
reader as well as by the writer with this object in view, 
it would justly take its place high among the fine arts. 
There are such writers and such readers. All honor to 
them. It is not of these that I complain, but of those 
whose motives are by no means so high or noble. 

Love of narrative is a natural passion, and should be 
gratified to a reasonable and healthful extent ; but it is 
a passion, the keenness of which is easily blunted by 



VOCATION, VACATION, AND AVOCATION. 187 

over-gratification. In the normal condition of the mind 
the simplest narrative of actual events, or of events 
which might easily be actual, is interesting enough to 
carry the reader or the listener along without effort on 
his part. But the trouble is, that neither the average 
writer nor the average reader of fiction is satisfied with 
such narratives ; so the passion is gratified with so 
highly seasoned material that it no longer finds pleasure 
in the simple tales of nature and real life. The jaded 
appetite becomes finally too feeble to tolerate even the 
fragments of essay or actual history which are thrown 
in here and there to give " body " to the romance, and 
they are impatiently skipped in the languid desire to 
see " how the story is coming out." I can liken the 
mind in this pitiable condition only to a stomach which 
has been fed so long on confections, spices, and worse 
stimulants that it can relish only the strongest of these. 

Susan Perkins. Then it is better and safer to avoid 
novels altogether, is it not ? 

Dr. Dix. Xo, indeed, Miss Perkins ; everybody 
ought to read some fiction, but only the best. Why, 
indeed, should any but the best ever be read ? There 
is enough for all, and it is as cheap and as easily ob- 
tained as the poorest. Why should any one drink of 
the muddy, stagnant pool when the clear, sparkling 
spring bubbles just beside it ? 

But do not let even the best novels get the mastery 
over you. The moment you find that they have blunted 
the keenness of your relish for more solid reading it is 
time for your " vacation " in reading to end for a while. 



XXXV. 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 

Dr. Dix. Referring again to Miss Sawyer's list — 

Helen Sawyer, Oh, Dr. Dix, I didn't intend any- 
thing so formidable as a list. If I had, I should have 
given it in alphabetical order. 

Dr. Dix. Referring again to Miss Sawyer's casual 
remark, we find travelling mentioned among the favor- 
ite occupations of those who are privileged to do as 
they please. We may include it among our summer 
avocations ; but, mark you, it must be travelling with a 
definite object in view, not in the listless, fruitless way 
in which many travel. You might as well dawdle away 
your time and sigh with mental dyspepsia at home as 
in a palace-car. Miss Sawyer mentioned yachting : that 
must also have a definite object ; observe that no one 
enjoys this avocation or profits by it more than the man 
who sails the yacht. Tennis was another amusement 
she named, to which we will add cricket, base-ball, and 
all similar games ; but you must set about them with 
an energetic determination to excel, or they will afford 
you little of either pleasure or profit. Among still 
other avocations I will mention the collection of min- 
erals, plants, and — and — 

Trumbull Butters. Postage stamps ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes, though this is better suited to a me- 
chanic or a farm laborer than to a student. He needs 
something that will give him more physical exercise 
and out-of-door air. 

Charles Fox. Birds' eggs and insects ? 

Dr. Dix. I was about to mention these. I hesitated 



CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 189 

for a moment because the thought of them suggested 
another subject of which I wish to speak, Cruelty to 
Animals. 

In the collection of minerals and plants there is noth- 
ing that need be painful to the most tender sensibility, 
though I heard a lady once say she neyer pulled a beau- 
tiful flower to pieces without feeling like a vandal. 
There is a wide difference between this lady and the 
man who for mere sport can wantonly destroy the most 
magnificent animal without compunction. Think of the 
heart that finds one of its keenest enjoyments in the 
destruction of joyous, beautiful life ! It has been ac- 
counted for, and it can be accounted for, only in one 
way : We are descended from a race of cruel savages, 
and the savagery has not all been civilized out of us. 

Joseph Craeklin. Would you, then, forbid all hunt- 
ing, trapping, and fishing ? 

Dr. Dix. For mere sport, yes : for food or other 
legitimate uses that may be made of the poor mangled 
victims of man's superior strength, skill, or cunning, or 
for defence against their depredations, no. 

Joseph Craeklin. But would you thus not greatly re- 
strict one of the best means men have of cultivating 
their power, skill, and manly courage and hardihood ? 

Dr. Dix. If they choose they can find plenty of other 
means equally good of cultivating their power and skill. 
It takes far more of either quality to study successfully 
the nature and habits of an innocent beast or bird, to 
find out where and how it lives, than to kill it. For 
my own part, I would rather hear a blackbird or a 
nightingale sing and note down its song on my musical 
scale, than to still its beautiful voice forever ; to watch 
it as it preens its feathers, than to ruffle and stain them 
with its blood, or as it builds its nest, than to leave its 
tiny architecture, all unfinished, to fall into ruin. 

As to " manly courage and hardihood/' it takes a 
wonderful amount, truly, to make war upon harmless 



190 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

creatures whose only wish or effort is to escape ! Think 
of a band of stalwart heroes armed with guns and 
mounted upon fleet horses, with an auxiliary force of 
bloodthirsty hounds, all in courageous pursuit of one 
little terror-stricken fox ! What paeans of victory should 
welcome their return with their formidable antagonist 
defeated and slain ! 

"See, the conquering heroes come ! 
Sound the trumpet, beat the drum ! " 

Joseph Cracklin. I never looked at it in that light 
before : it does seem rather unfair to the fox, to be 
sure. 

Dr. Dix. Unfair ! I can admire the heroes of a lion 
or of a tiger hunt as enthusiastically as any one, but I 
confess I cannot sound my trumpet nor beat my drum 
very loudly in honor of the heroes of a fox hunt. 

Joseph Cracklin. But they don't boast of their cour- 
age in attacking and killing the animal ; they think 
only of their skill in the chase — they don't think of 
the animal at all. 

Dr. Dix. You mean, they don't think of the odds 
between them and their victim ? 

Joseph Cracklin. Yes, Dr. Dix ; that 's what I mean. 

Dr. Dix. Because it is only an animal, and because 
the odds is so enormous that it eludes thought alto- 
gether. They would scorn to try their prowess with 
an inferior human antagonist, and the greater the dis- 
parity the greater they would deem their cowardice in 
such a trial. If we see a great, strong man abusing a 
defenceless child, our hearts swell with indignation and 
contempt ; but if it be a creature a thousand times 
feebler and more defenceless than the child, he may 
abuse it or kill it at pleasure, with little or no imputa- 
tion upon his manliness or chivalry. 

Henry Phillips. But, Dr. Dix, it is simply impossi- 
ble to look upon human beings and animals in the same 
light. 



CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 191 

Dr. Dix. I admit it. I admit that it is better that 
an animal shonld suffer pain and death rather than that 
a human being should suffer pain. I go still further : 
If the death of an animal can really benefit a human 
being, it is right that the animal should die. I do not 
admit, however, that it is right to take harmless lives, 
simply to gratify a cruel love of sport, or to gratify a 
still more cruel vanity — whether it be to adorn a lady's 
bonnet or an Indian's belt. 

Jane Simpson. Oh, Dr. Dix, do you compare the 
birds on a lady's bonnet to scalps taken by a savage ? 

Dr. Dix. To my mind there are striking points of 
resemblance : both are the trophies of a cruel warfare, 
— though in one case the fighting is entirely on one 
side, the slaughter entirely on the other, — both are the 
ornaments of hideous death. 

Jane Simpson. Ugh ! I will never wear a bird on 
my bonnet again. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. But what of killing birds for nat- 
ural history collections ? 

Dr. Dix. As the design of that is to benefit human 
beings by affording them better opportunities of study- 
ing nature, I have already expressed my opinion upon 
it. For the same reason, you remember, I began by ap- 
proving of the collection of birds' eggs and insects. 
But even this should not be done at the sacrifice of our 
humane sensibilities. Let the death of the poor mar- 
tyrs to our needs and conveniences be as nearly painless 
as possible ; and, above all, do not waste the lives so 
precious to them. Do not rob the nest of all its store ; 
do not leave the tiny mother's tiny home utterly des- 
olate. 

Archibald Watson. I suppose there 's no need of 
being careful about wasting the precious lives of insects 
injurious to vegetation. 

Dr. Dix. That topic has already been disposed of, 
since their destruction is beneficial to man. 



192 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Lives so precious to them, I said. Did you ever 
think when you thoughtlessly crushed the life out of 
some harmless little creature, that you had in an in- 
stant destroyed what the combined skill of all mankind 
could not restore ? that you had wantonly taken away 
one happy being's whole share in the universe of be- 
ing ? Think how bountiful Nature has been to you, 
and how niggardly to your victim. Could you not, with 
your thousands of herds, have left it its one ewe lamb ? 

If it is cowardly to treat an inferior with cruelty, why 
should not the cowardice be estimated in proportion to 
the degree of the inferiority ? You say, we cannot look 
upon the human and the brute creation in the same 
light. This, in general, I have admitted. But pain is 
pain and death is death, whoever or whatever suffers 
them. The man or the boy who can inflict torture upon 
a dumb animal without a stirring of pity in his heart 
is not likely to be very tender of any suffering but his 
own. 

The timidity of the animal creation is a constant re- 
proach to man. The wild deer spies him in the dis- 
tance, and scours away in terror : birds that alight fear- 
lessly upon the broad backs of the buffalo dart away 
at man's approach, while their shaggy steeds plunge 
headlong over the precipice in their mad attempt to 
escape. 

It need not have been so. It is pathetic to witness 
the affection with which creatures so often maltreated 
return kindness. The Arab's steed loves his master 
with almost the love of a child for its father ; the dog's 
affection for his master is entirely unselfish ; birds can 
be tamed so that they will feed from your hand. 

Louisa Thompson. Alexander Selkirk in his solitude 
laments that the beasts that roam over the plain 

" Are so unacquainted with man, 
Their tameness is shocking to me." 

Dr. Dix. And shocking it should be to any humane 



CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 193 

heart, but not for the purely selfish reason which made 
it so to him. 

It is well for us that there is no race on earth for 
whose sole benefit we ourselves are supposed to have 
been created. Who knows what there may be in future 
ages ? Science has shown that we have been evolved 
from this same inferior creation that we sacrifice so 
ruthlessly to our needs and pleasures : John Fiske to 
the contrary notwithstanding, who knows positively 
that there may not be evolved from us an angelic race 
as far above us as we are above the anthropoid apes — 
in all respects save the sense of what is due to infe- 
riors ? 

Imagine these glorious beings hunting, wounding, 
and slaying us for the sake of angelic " sport," and for 
the sake of cultivating their strength, skill, and angelic 
courage and hardihood! Imagine them harnessing us 
into their chariots ; peeling the skin from our tongues 
and setting our teeth into agony with icy bits ; strap- 
ping our heads back till our necks ache beyond endur- 
ance, to make us look spirited ; blinding our eyes lest 
we should notice things by the way too curiously ; and 
then, perhaps, driving us until we drop dead with ex- 
haustion. Imagine them forgetting us in our cages and 
letting us die of cruel hunger and still more cruel thirst, 
or leaving us to languish in unvisited traps and snares ; 
transporting us thousands of miles so closely packed 
together that we can neither stand, sit, nor lie without 
pain, and neglecting to give us food or drink because it 
would take too much time and trouble ; destroying our 
fair-haired women by the thousands for the sake of 
their tresses to adorn their angelic bonnets withal ; col- 
lecting us for natural history museums and biological 
lectures. In short, imagine them inflicting upon us 
any of the myriad torments we so thoughtlessly and 
heartlessly inflict upon the unfortunate inferiors that 
Fate has thrown upon our mercy. Then, in fine, sup- 



194 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

pose we should hear them justify their cruelty with the 
plea : " They are only men, and it is impossible to look 
upon men and angels in the same light ! 

Florence Hill. But such things would not be possible 
with such a race of beings ; they would be as superior 
to men in kindness to their inferiors as they were in all 
other respects. 

Dr. Dix. You are right, Miss Hill. I supposed the 
exception only for the sake of helping us to see our- 
selves as others — angels, for instance — might see us. 
Such a race as I have imagined may never exist on earth, 
but I have no doubt that the Coming Man will be greatly 
superior to the present representatives of the race in 
kindness of heart as well as in all other respects ; and 
I believe that he will look back upon the atrocities of 
this age, those inflicted upon animals among the rest, 
as we look back upon the gladiatorial shows of ancient 
Rome or the torture of prisoners in ancient Carthage. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. Dr. Dix, all people are not cruel 
to animals. There are some who seem to think more 
of them than they do of human beings. I have seen 
ladies take better care of a snarling little puppy than 
they would ever think of taking of a baby. 

Joseph Cracklin. And I have seen girls pet a kitten 
while they were making mouths at their brothers. 

Helen Sawyer [promptly']. That is because kittens 
always behave so much better than brothers do ! [Laugh- 
ter.'] 

Joseph Cracklin. While sisters are always such pat- 
terns of gentleness, patience, and sweet — 

Dr. Dix. The time to close our discussion has come. 



XXXVI. 
CHARITY. 

Dr. Dix. In our last Talk we spoke of our duties to 
the lower animals : let us now return to our duties to 
our own race. We may dispose of Jenkins's remark, 
that some people think more of animals than of human 
beings, with the reflection that such sentiments can 
awaken only pity or disgust in any well-regulated mind. 
What should be our feelings and conduct towards our 
fellow-men, particularly those who need our sympathy 
and help, will be our subject this morning. 

I said awhile ago that no life is more certain to fail 
in its object than that one which is devoted to selfish 
pleasure-seeking. The rule extends to all self-seeking 
of whatever kind. The purely selfish man may gain all 
he strives for : wealth, power, learning, fame, idle amuse- 
ment, — all save the one thing that he most ardently 
desires, and to which all the rest are sought as merely 
stepping-stones — happiness. 

Now how shall happiness be obtained ? It has been 
defined as that condition in which all the functions 
of mind and body are in perfectly harmonious action, 
— perfect harmony with their environment. It is not 
probable that such a condition has ever yet been attained 
in this world, but the nearest approach to it has been 
where to a healthy body and mind has been joined a 
heart so filled with love for fellow-men that it has had 
little or no thought for self. For, scholars, Happiness 
comes to us most readily when she is not sought for her 
own sake. She is beautiful and sweet, but she is an 
arrant coquette. " Pursue her," says an old proverb, 
"and she will flee ; avoid her, and she will pursue." 



19G CHARACTER BUILDING. 

But the selfish man will not believe this. Day by day, 
and year by year, he goes on straining all his energies 
for that which is designed to benefit only himself ; and 
with each successive triumph comes disappointment, 
astonishment, that the happiness he so fondly expected 
does not follow. He concludes, at length, that what- 
ever satisfaction there is in life comes in the process of 
acquiring and not in the acquisition itself, and so — he 
goes on, still striving. 

But he makes a fatal mistake. There is a satisfaction 
far greater than that of the mightiest and most success- 
ful struggle for self, — a satisfaction, too, which does 
not end with success, but goes on ever increasing. 

It would be well for him if the three spirits that 
visited Scrooge on that famous Christmas night would 
visit him also. Then, when he had seen how much 
wretchedness there is in this sad world that he might 
relieve, how many bitter tears that he might dry, how 
many heavy hearts that he might cheer, perhaps he 
could taste the happiness which all his years of labor 
and of triumph cannot bestow. Instead of feeling a 
dead weight of discontent, of unsatisfied longing for he 
knows not what, forever pressing down upon his heart, 
he might cry, like the transformed Scrooge, laughing 
and crying in the same breath, — 

" I don't know what to do ! I am as light as a feather, 
I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school- 
boy, I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christ- 
mas to everybody ! A happy New Year to all the 
world ! Hallo, here ! Whoop ! Hallo ! " 

George Williams. Scrooge was a rich man : he had 
it in his power to do all those benevolent deeds. But 
if happiness depends on that sort of thing, there was n't 
much chance for the poor people he helped ; and he 
could n't have succeeded in making them really happy, 
after all, however comfortable he may have made them. 

Dr. Dix. Ah, Williams, giving money is not the 



CHARITY. 197 

only way to benefit our fellow-men. A kind word, a 
cheery smile, has many times lightened a sorrow-laden 
heart as money could not have lightened it ; and none 
of us are so poor that we cannot, now and then, give a 
crust of bread, a cup of cold water, or a helping hand 
to those in need. The giving of money, indeed, often 
does more harm than good. The careless rich, who sat- 
isfy their pride and their consciences by the indiscrimi- 
nate scattering of their bounty, are responsible for most 
of the culpable pauperism in the world. To give to a 
lazy, shiftless man is only to defeat the beneficent pur- 
pose of Xature and Fortune, which is to force him by 
the stern discipline of necessity to use the energies they 
have given him. To feed his laziness and shiftlessness 
is little better than to give strong drink to the drunkard 
or laudanum to the opium slave. The only help which 
those who are wise and really sincere in their benevo- 
lence will vouchsafe such a man is encouragement and 
assistance to help himself. 

This is the best work of the great charitable organizar 
tions which do so much to distinguish our age from the 
cruel past. 

Frederick Fox. I have heard bitter complaints against 
charitable organizations : that a great deal of the money 
given them is spent in fat salaries to officials and in 
useless decoration and printing, but especially that there 
is so much red tape about their operations that those 
who are actually most in need of their aid do not know 
how to set to work to get it, and, even if they did know, 
would have neither the time nor the energy to go 
through with the necessary preliminaries. 

Dr. Dix. While there is probably some foundation 
for such complaints, you must bear in mind that there 
is nothing many people enjoy so much as fault-finding, 
and generally those who know the least of what they 
are talking about are the most severe in their criticism. 
Most frequently, I suspect, their criticisms are pro- 



198 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

nounced merely as the most effective way of saving 
their own money. 

I have taken some pains to inquire into the methods 
of several of the best known charitable associations, and 
I have yet to find an official overpaid. On the contrary, 
most of them fill their offices at an actual personal sac- 
rifice. I have found no useless decoration, and as to 
printing, every business man knows how essential that 
is to the efficiency of any enterprise, whether charitable 
or otherwise. The " red tape " you speak of is not an 
unmitigated evil. I do not think there is generally any 
more than is necessary to prevent imposture. It is well, 
too, that help should not be obtained too easily, so long 
as it comes in time to those in actual need. 

Florence Hill. But how many thousands there are in 
the sorest need, to whom it never comes ! 

Dr. Dix. Alas, yes. If those who are so liberal with 
their complaints and criticisms would be but half as 
liberal with their help, they would find far less to com- 
plain of and criticise. Scolding is not the best way to 
correct abuses, scholars. 

Let me now make a practical suggestion to you: 
Whether you ever become active working members of 
such associations or not, at least inform yourselves 
thoroughly in regard to their methods and the steps 
necessary to secure their aid, so that when a case of 
need comes to your knowledge you may know exactly 
what to do, and how to do it in the best and quickest 
way. And, let me add by the way, do not wait for such 
cases k) come to your knowledge accidentally. Seek 
them out. None of you will be too busy in your own 
behalf or in that of those dependent upon you to do an 
occasional act of kindness of this sort. Do it, not for 
the sure reward of happiness it will bring you, espe- 
cially on your last day, but for the love you bear your 
suffering brother or sister. 



XXXVII. 

WITH HAND AXD HEART. 

Dr. Dix. Do your kindnesses, I said last Wednesday, 
with, your heart as well as with your hand. This morn- 
ing I say, Do them with your hand as well as with your 
heart. The seed that germinates, but never sends its 
shoots into the sunlight, is no better than a stone ; 
the plant that puts forth leaves, but neither flower nor 
fruit, is little better. 

Jane Simpson. But did n't you say, a kind word, a 
cheery smile, often do more good than more substantial 
gifts ? 

Dr. Dix. And so they do. They are the flowers of 
kindness, and flowers are sometimes more needed than 
fruit. Did you never see a beautiful, fresh bouquet 
brighten the eyes of a weary invalid as the choicest 
viands would not have brightened them ? I have, and 
I have seen a ragged child in the city laugh with de- 
light over a poor little nosegay, who would have pock- 
eted your dime with scarcely a " thank ye, sir." 

Luey Snoic. And what are the leaves of kindness ? 

Dr. Dix. Oh, the}' are merely Talks about kindness. 
All that we say here, if it results in neither a kind word 
and a cheery smile to those more in need of them than 
of the helping hand, nor in both the kind word and the 
helping hand to those in need of both, is " nothing but 
leaves, nothing but leaves." 

Helen Mar. And the germinating seed that never 
reaches the sunlight is, I suppose, the mere thought of 
kindness in the heart that never finds expression either 
in words or deeds ? 



200 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. Precisely. But let us not run our figure . 
into the ground, — I refer to the figure, not the seed. 
[Laughter.] 

Do your kindnesses with your hand as well as with 
your heart : do not be satisfied with unspoken impulses, 
nor yet with eloquent panegyrics on the beauty and 
the nobility of benevolence. 

Florence Hill. If the hand does not obey the impulse 
of the heart, is there not good reason for suspecting the 
genuineness of the impulse ? 

Dr. Dix. There is, indeed. A great deal of such im- 
pulse that is taken for real benevolence, especially by 
the subject himself, is but the flimsiest kind of senti- 
mentalism. Oh, what a vast amount of it there is ! 
what floods of tears are shed over the romantic sorrows 
of fair creatures that never breathed, by readers who 
can hear of real living distress without a tinge of pity ! 
what heart-throbs and suppressed sighs over the pictur- 
esque woes of the stage heroine in her velvet, satin, and 
jewels, — heart-throbs and sighs which even the know- 
ledge that the persecuted fair one gets her thousand 
dollars a night cannot mitigate ! 

Helen Mar. Such grief seems absurd enough when 
we think of it coolly, and yet I can't think it is entirely 
heartless. Only those whose imaginations are vivid 
enough to make the scenes read and witnessed a reality 
for the time being, can feel it. To them the suffering 
is real suffering, so the pity they feel and the tears they 
shed — their sighs and their heart-throbs — are genuine 
after all. 

Dr. Dix. Don't lay too much stress on the reality, 
Miss Mar. Reality would lead genuine feeling to some 
sort of action, whereas the most remote notion of being 
anything more than a passive spectator, whatever out- 
rages are perpetrated, never enters the most lively im- 
agination of the theatre-goer or the novel -reader. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. I never heard of but one man to 



WITH HAND AND HEART. 201 

whom the persecuted stage heroine was a bona fide 
realit\\ 

Dr. Dix. Well, you may tell us about him, if it will 
not take too long. 

Geoffrey Jenkins. He was a big-hearted, chivalrous 
Irishman who, when he could restrain his outraged 
feelings no longer, stood up in his seat in the gallery, 
shook a most formidable fist, and shouted at the top of 
his voice, " Av ye don't lave her alone, ye currly-headed, 
murtherin' thafe o' the wurruld, I'll — " But before he 
could pronounce the " murtherin' thafe's " doom he was 
summarily repressed. 

Dr. Dix. There was heart and hand, surely. 
, Archibald Watson. Or rather, heart and fist. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, and, I remember, I made a distinction. 
No one could doubt the genuineness of his impulse. 
Whether Jenkins's story is true or not, it illustrates 
more forcibly than anything I could say the shallowness 
of sentimental emotions. The natural outbreak of a 
heart whose warmth and strength, unimpaired by artifi- 
cial excitement, overmastered its owner's judgment and 
reason, was simply ridiculous to his fellow spectators, 
who neither felt nor wished to feel more than the hol- 
low semblance of his emotion. 

There is a certain amount of sentimentalism in nearly 
all of us. Something of the theatrical or, at least, of 
the dramatic is needed to arouse our hearts to lively 
emotion. We read in our morning paper of a great rail- 
way disaster. If the reporter is a plain statistician, 
without imagination or power of word-picturing, how 
many of us feel more than a momentary thrill of horror ? 
how many feel even that strongly ? But let the story 
of one of the sufferers be skilfully told, and we lavish 
upon him the sympathy that we withhold from the 
many. Nay, let the story of suffering that we know 
was never endured be told with sufficient dramatic 
power, and it will arouse emotions, perhaps tears, that 



CHARACTER BUILDING. 

not even Waterloo or Gettysburg has ever brought 
to us. 

Louisa Thompson. But the vivid emotion is only 
momentary, while the other is lasting. 

Dr. Dix. What there is of it. 

Louisa Thompson. Even if there is not much of it, 
do you think it necessarily implies heartlessness ? We 
cannot feel until we realize. The reality is too much 
for us ; w T e cannot feel it because we cannot compre- 
hend it. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, all that is true. But full realization 
does not always bring the emotions that are due, that 
would arise in a heart in its normal condition. I have 
heard the most eloquent pity poured out for a beggar- 
girl in a painting from people who I know would never 
notice the original. 

What I wish to impress upon you is that mere emo- 
tion, it matters not how vivid, does not necessarily imply 
real goodness of heart, nor on the other hand does the 
absence of vivid emotion imply a want of goodness of 
heart. We see this principle illustrated every day. It is 
not real distress that affects people of shallow emotional 
natures, but the pathetic manifestation of distress, par- 
ticularly if that manifestation is graceful and pleasing, 
a beautiful sorrow in the eye or a mournful music in the 
voice. Literary, dramatic, or musical pathos is the only 
pathos that will move them, whether in fiction, on the 
stage, or in real life. It follow r s that there must be 
nothing in the distress too disagreeable to witness, — 
nothing decidedly repulsive : the filth and squalor so 
often inseparable from it are utterly out of the ques- 
tion. 

In short, the chief concern is not so much for the 
sufferer as for self. 

" I cannot visit the homes of the extremely poor," 
says one of these tender creatures ; " my sympathies 
are too strong, — and as to hospitals, how any one with 



WITH HAND AND HEART. 203 

a heart can bear to enter them, I cannot nnder stand. 7 ' 
And so the extremely poor might suffer on, the hospital 
patient might languish uncheered and unnursed, with- 
out disturbing his equanimity, so long as they remained 
out of his sight and hearing. I have heard a man boast, 
as if he thought it was really creditable to his good 
heart, that he always got away from a crowd assembled 
around an object in the street as quickly as possible, for 
fear it might be somebody killed or badly hurt. 

Joseph Cracklin. Would he show a better heart if he 
should elbow his way through the crowd and stand like 
them staring at the man that was killed or hurt, just out 
of curiosity ? 

Dr. Dix. That there are lower depths of cruelty and 
selfishness than his own does not imply that he is not 
cruel and selfish. There are still lower depths than 
that to which probably any one in that crowd has sunk. 
People have lived who would not only gaze with pleas- 
ure upon suffering and death, but would, if permitted, 
help them along, as boys throw fuel upon a bonfire. 
The utmost that the man I spoke of can claim is neutral- 
ity to the suffering of others and tender consideration 
of his own sensitive feelings. He can claim no positive 
goodheartedness until, at the sacrifice of feeling, he has 
offered his help, or has learned that no help is needed. 

It is good to feel the heart swell with tender sym- 
pathy for the pain of others, it is good to express ten- 
der sympathy in well-chosen and effective words, but 
it is better — oh, immensely better — to do that which 
will help to relieve that pain. 

Do your kindnesses, then, with hand as well as with 
heart. Son, do not merely pity your anxious father, so 
sorely beset in the battle of life : stand by his side 
when he needs you most, and fight the battle with him. 
Daughter, when your sympathetic heart is touched by 
your overburdened mother's pale face and drooping fig- 
ure, do not be satisfied with embracing her and pouring 



204 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

forth a wordy flood of pity and affectionate remon- 
strance, and then leaving your " cold-hearted/' undemon- 
strative sister the humdrum task of actually lightening 
your poor mother's burden. Take hold bravely and 
help her with your own fair hands. Never mind if the 
strain on your long cherished selfishness and love of 
ease is a little severe at first, persevere ; it will do you 
good as well as her — though heaven forbid that this 
should be your prevailing motive — and you will find 
the strain grow less and less, until what was at first an 
irksome task will become one of your purest pleasures. 



XXXVIII. 
POLITENESS. 

Dr. JDix. We cannot finish our Talks on Benevolence* 
without some mention of Politeness, which may be de- 
fined as Benevolence in Little Things. The polite man 
desires that everybody around him should be at ease, 
and by being at ease himself, he does what he can to 
bring about that result. He is polished, he has no 
rough surfaces to rasp those with whom he comes in 
contact, no sharp corners nor edges to push into or cut 
into them. 

Now, as a rule, we find the greatest development of 
politeness, or at least polish, where people are most 
thickly congregated together : hence our words urbane, 
from the Latin urbanus, belonging to the city ; and 
civil, from civilis, belonging to the citizen in distinction 
from the savage, although it by no means follows that 
every resident of a city or a state is either urbane or civil, 
polite or polished. Some persons are so coarse-grained 
and obstinate in their natures that no amount of attri- 
tion will wear them smooth. 

There is an illustration of the process that polishes 
the manners of men which, though somewhat hack- 
neyed, is so good that I will give it : — 

Stones which have not been subjected to the attrition 
of one another or of water retain the rough surfaces 
and sharp corners and edges which they had when they 
were first broken from the earth's crust. But go down 
to the seashore or to the river-bed, and you will find 
that the continual washing of the waves and the roll- 
ing of the stones together have polished their rough 



206 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

surfaces and worn off their sharp corners and jagged 
edges. 

So men who live much by themselves are apt to be 
rude and unpolished, to have, so to speak, sharp corners 
and jagged edges. More frequent contact with their 
fellow-men would render these roughnesses intolerable 
to themselves as well as to their neighbors, and so they 
would be of necessity worn off. The country farmer 
4in the midst of his wide acres has plenty of room to 
stick out his elbows as far as he pleases, and as there 
are so few to be offended by his unpolished speech and 
his indifference to personal appearance, he may indulge 
in them with comparatively little inconvenience. But 
imagine a crowded city in which such were the prevail- 
ing speech, manners and dress ! what a chaos of rasping 
and elbowing, pulling and pushing, mutual anger and 
disgust, it would be ! With all the many and great dis- 
advantages of city compared with country life, it has, 
at least, one great advantage : it enforces mutual for- 
bearance and consideration. 

Susan Perkins. Do you mean to imply that city peo- 
ple are really more benevolent than country people ? 

Dr. Dix. By no manner of means, Miss Perkins. I 
have been speaking of external politeness, or polish, to 
show how it is produced and, merely superficial as it is, 
how essential it is to comfort and happiness in our in- 
tercourse with one another. 

No, real benevolence is peculiar to neither city nor 
country. The roughest exterior ma}^ cover the kindest 
and noblest heart, while the most polished exterior may 
hide the basest and most selfish. It is none the less 
true, however, that the noble heart would be all the 
nobler if it were not satisfied with benevolence on a 
large scale, but condescended to little kindnesses also. 
Life is, after all, more concerned with little than with 
great things. Therer are men who would not hesitate to 
lay down their lives for their families, who never think 



POLITENESS. 207 

of the little courtesies which make so much of the sun- 
shine of life. 

There are children who in their hearts love and ven- 
erate their parents, who nevertheless shamefully neglect 
the visible and audible manifestation of their love and 
veneration. Both parents and children should know 
that love is a plant that needs to put forth leaves, flow- 
ers, and fruit, lest, hardy as it is, it may languish and 
die. 

There are men, too, — you are quite as likely to find 
them on the farm or in the backwoods as in the most 
crowded city, — " Nature's noblemen," who are always 
polite, not according to auy prescribed code of eti- 
quette, but from the unerring instinct of native refine- 
ment and a kind and noble heart. Theirs is the only 
politeness which has the true ring. I make a distinc- 
tion between true politeness and mere external polish : 
the one is solid gold, only brightened by the wear of 
daily life like the gold eagle passed from hand to hand ; 
the other is but gilding, which soon wears off and 
shows the base, corroded metal beneath. 

But the purest gold is sometimes hidden under a sur- 
face of base metal ; it is good, indeed, to know that 
the gold is there, and that it will come out when emer- 
gency demands it, but how much better that it should 
always gladden the eye ! Let there be no base metal 
either within or without. 

Granting, then, that the heart is good and true, how 
shall the manners be polished ? I have spoken of men 
whose unerring instinct makes them always polite. 
But goodness of heart alone is not enough to give them 
this unerring instinct : there must be also refinement 
and good taste. 

In manners as well as in morals it is not safe for men 
to judge the standards of others by their own. What 
is good enough for them is not necessarily good enough 
for others. A half-blind man should not rely upon his 



208 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

own perception in preparing things for others to see. 
Untidy and ill-fitting garments may not offend their 
wearers, but their wearers should not suppose, there- 
fore, that others will view them with like indifference. 
A generous, whole-souled fellow may drum with grimy 
fingers upon his plate, or use his knife instead of his 
fork, with the most serene complacency, totally obliv- 
ious of the fact that he is inflicting a sort of mild tor- 
ture upon his neighbors, who never did him any harm. 
This is neither polite nor benevolent ; it is not doing as 
he would be done by. He should know that all skins 
are not as thick as his own. 

Trumbull Butters. But how can he be blamed if he 
does n't know any better ? 

Dr. Dix. He has no right not to know any better ; 
he has no right to be guided by his own standard of 
taste and comfort where the taste and comfort of others 
are concerned. If he is to mingle with other people it 
is his duty to learn their requirements in manners as 
well as in morals. In fact, as I have already plainly 
said, good manners are properly included in good mor- 
als. No man can justly be a law unto himself in respect 
to either : he must abide by the accepted laws, and it is 
a recognized principle of all law that an offender cannot 
be exculpated on the plea of ignorance. 

Lucy Snow. I confess I never thought of the rules 
of etiquette in that light before. 

Dr. Dix. Is it not the right light ? The laws of 
good manners are as truly laws as are those of the civil 
government ; the rewards of obedience and the penalties 
of disobedience are as assured. 

Now, the man who drums with grimy fingers on his 
plate, and substitutes his knife for his fork, is an ex- 
treme case of ignorance and vulgarity. He and others 
like him are not the only persons who are satisfied with 
too low a standard of good breeding. The girl who 
shouts from the school-room window to a companion 



POLITENESS. 209 

across the street, who tears her French exercise into tiny 
bits and showers them down upon the floor in serene 
obliviousness of the uneasiness they cause her more 
tidy neighbors, who talks commonplace slang at home 
and abroad, apparently indifferent to, but secretly proud 
of, the attention she is attracting from total strangers 

— how should she know that their glances betoken 
either disgust or an admiration that she would rather 
not awaken ? — who is affable and sweet to those who 
care little for her and for whom she cares as little, but 
is cross and snappish to those who are all the world to 
her and to whom she is all the world, — this girl, most 
certainly, has too low a standard. She may have a 
heart of gold, but it is so deeply buried under the out- 
side coating of dross that it is difficult to believe in its 
existence, until some crucial test comes to burn away 
the dross and reveal the gold pure and shining. 

And the boy who swaggers and swears, with the ab- 
surd notion that he is exciting general admiration for 
his spirit and dash, instead of contempt and dislike 
from all except those on or below his own low plane ; 
who complacently sports his flashy jewelry (the African 
savage shows precisely the same complacency in his 
monstrous adornments) ; who makes himself obnoxious 
by his aggressive conduct in the public thoroughfares 
and conveyances ; who treats with flippant disrespect 
those whose superior age, wisdom, and worth entitle 
them to his profound reverence ; who is unchivalrous 
to the other sex, especially his own mother and sisters, 

— this boy most assuredly has too low a standard, both 
of benevolence and of good breeding. 

Jonathan Tower. Is n't something more than benev- 
olence, native refinement, and good taste needed to 
make people always polite ? 

Dr. Dix. I said that one who has these qualifica- 
tions will always be polite, though he may not conform 
to any prescribed code of etiquette. 



210 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Joseph Cracklhi. That does n't matter much, does 
it? 

Dr. Dix. The education that one acquires in culti- 
vated society bears the same relation to manners that 
the education of school and college bears to intelligence 
and learning. One can be self-taught in both direc- 
tions ; but it is no more than reasonable to suppose 
that the combined judgment and good taste of many 
learned and cultivated people are superior to those of 
one person, however intelligent and refined by nature. 

It is the habit of some persons to speak slightingly 
of the rules of etiquette ; but they are generally those 
who know little of them. More intimate knowledge 
would convince them that, for the most part, these rules 
are founded in common sense and pure benevolence, — 
that they are the very best that can be devised to secure 
the highest degree of ease, comfort, and refined pleasure 
in social intercourse. 



• XXXIX. 
PKOFANITY AND OBSCENITY. 

Dr. Dix. Pro, before ; fanum, a temple. So the old 
Komans compounded the word from which comes our 
word profane. 

We picture to ourselves a low-browed, villainous- 
looking lout standing before the portico of a noble 
edifice, and with insulting gestures pouring upon it a 
torrent of vulgar abuse. What to him is the spotless 
purity of that Pentelican marble, the ineffable grace of 
those fluted columns with their exquisitely chiselled 
capitals ? What to him is that realization of the poet's 
loftiest dream, the marble imagery of the pediment ; or 
the majestic symmetry of the whole structure, which 
seems instinct with the spirit of the goddess whose su- 
perb figure stands within ? 

He sees them all, — the columns, the smooth, pure 
walls, the sculptured gods and nymphs ; but they in- 
spire no noble awe or tender admiration in his base- 
born soul. He stands there like a dragon befouling 
them with his fetid breath. 

It matters not that the temple he profanes is the 
sanctuary of a pagan religion, that the divinity he in- 
sults exists only in the imagination of a deluded people. 
* It is enough that the temple is a sanctuary, that the 
divinity is to many far nobler souls than his own a 
cherished reality, that to many other noble souls who 
may not believe in the religion they represent, they are, 
at least, the expression of a lofty ideal of beauty, power, 
and majesty. 

Louisa Thompson. That was the way in which the 



212 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

most intelligent people of Greece and Rome looked 
upon their divinities, was it not ? 

Dr. Dix. So the best classical authorities assure us. 
Now, as you have been told repeatedly, this is not the 
place either to attack or to defend any of the forms and 
teachings of our modern religions*; but it is both my 
privilege and my duty to impress upon you the solemn 
obligation that rests upon you as moral beings, bound 
to do unto others as you would that they should do 
unto you, to treat with respect and veneration all that 
is sacred from the good there is in it or the good it may 
cause, whether it is ancient or modern, whether it is in 
itself a demonstrated reality or only the belief of good 
and honest hearts. 

Profanity is the violation of this most solemn obliga- 
tion, if it is not a very much greater crime. Why does 
a man insult the name which so many millions of good 
men and good women regard as the most sacred of all 
names ? If he believes it is but a name, he can have 
no purpose but to insult those who believe it is infi- 
nitely more ; otherwise his words have neither point 
nor significance : if he believes as they do, what words 
can measure his awful wickedness ? 

Archibald Watson. Probably no one who swears 
realizes what he is doing. 

Dr. Dix. I am convinced of that. Surely no one 
who did realize it, whatever his religious belief or un- 
belief, would be guilty of an offence, which of all of- 
fences offers the smallest return. The profane swearer 
has been aptly described as the only gudgeon among 
men that is caught with an absolutely naked hook. 
His profanity brings him neither gold, power, nor 
glory. What does it bring him, boys ? what does any 
man swear for ? 

Geoffrey Jenkins. He thinks it sounds bold and 
reckless ; it gives him an air of jaunty hardihood, which 
he and others like him particularly admire. 



PROFANITY AND OBSCENITY. 213 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; it sounds bold, and reckless, and 
hardy ; but, as we have said in a very different connec- 
tion, " words are cheap." And of all words, none are 
cheaper in a certain way (though they are dear enough 
in others) than the generality of profane oaths, — none 
more absolutely meaningless. Every one knows that 
the dire curses which fall so recklessly from the habit- 
ual swearer's lips are but the idlest of idle breath. He 
curses with equal vigor what he likes and what he 
hates, his sonorous profanity is applied with utter im- 
partiality to what strikes his vulgar mind as good or 
bad, beautiful or ugly, honorable or mean. As to its 
indicating real boldness or hardihood, any one that 
would be terrified by such senseless babble, however 
sonorous and blood-curdling (if it really meant any- 
thing), must be timid indeed ! 

" Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? " 

asks Brutus of his choleric friend. With a very slight 
change, the question might be asked by any of us, 

Shall I he frighted when a madman swears ? 

They who understand human nature know very well 
that the loud-mouthed blusterer, whose hot oaths pour 
forth from his mouth like a stream of molten lava from 
the crater of a volcano, is very apt to be perfectly 
harmless as a fighting man. It is the quiet man, whose 
conversation is Yea, yea; nay, nay, that is to be guarded 
against when his righteous wrath becomes white-hot 
within him. 

Joseph Cracklin. I should think that anything that 
serves as an escape valve for " white-hot wrath " must 
be a good thing, even if it is profanity. 

Dr. Dix. Xot for righteous wrath, which is the kind 
I mentioned. No escape valve is wanted for that, — 
there is altogether too little of it in the world to cope 
with the evils that are rampant. 



214 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Joseph Cracklin. But what if the wrath is not right- 
eous ? 

Dr. Dix. Ah, then I grant you that even the pro- 
fanity of a blustering bully may be the less of two 
evils, — that is, supposing his profanity serves as a 
substitute for anything else, which, by the way, is not 
likely; he is probably too cowardly to risk anything 
but terrible words. 

Joseph Cracklin. But there are others besides cow- 
ards and bullies who swear. 

Dr. Dix. Undoubtedly ; and their swearing does not 
prevent other forms of wickedness. A cool, courageous 
villain will accomplish his villainy — and swear too. 
The point is, that it is not his swearing that shows his 
courage or hardihood. He knows this as well as others, 
and he knows, too, that it is not his swearing that will 
test the courage or hardihood of others ; that if any 
one fears him it is on account of his lightning, not his 
thunder. 

We will admit that so far as sound goes, profanity is 
bold, reckless, and hardy ; but towards whom or what 
is the noisy boldness, recklessness, and hardihood 
shown ? If the speaker believes that the sacred names 
he blasphemes stand for nothing,, wherein does his bold- 
ness consist, even in sound ? I have heard it said that 
when a negro child in the South wishes to be particu- 
larly insulting to his playmates he abuses their mothers. 
Is it in a similar way that the profane swearer desires 
to show his manly courage by insulting what multitudes 
of good people hold most sacred ? If he believes as 
they do, is he willing to accept the penalty he believes 
he merits ? or does he expect to escape by timely re- 
pentance, and is that his notion of courage and honor ? 
Would he utter his blasphemies if he believed that 
merited punishment would follow instantly upon the 
offence ? 

Jonathan Totver. But a man does n't alwavs swear 



PROFANITY AND OBSCENITY. 215 

because he is angry, — he does it sometimes simply to 
be emphatic and forcible, or witty. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, I have already credited him with 
perfect impartiality in the bestowal of his epithets. 
Things are profanely good and profanely bad, profanely 
great and profanely small, profanely sad and profanely 
funny, and so on throughout the list. I will make the 
same remark about him that I made about the drunk- 
ard : his force, emphasis, or wit is of a very cheap or- 
der. The really eloquent and witty man is dependent 
upon neither alcohol nor profanity for his eloquence 
and wit ; he shows the genuineness and power of his 
gifts by doing without such aids : nothing shows essen- 
tial poverty of mind and character like a reliance upon 
either. 

But besides being insulting to good men and to the 
Being whom so many good men believe in and worship, 
the profane man is unutterably vulgar. I return to my 
picture of the clown before the beautiful, noble temple, 
— he is like a dragon befouling it with his fetid breath. 
In fact, profanity is very often and very properly men- 
tioned with, as it is usually accompanied by, another 
still grosser form of vulgarity, of which I shall now 
speak. 

Virgil has typified obscenity in his Harpies, those 
" obscene birds n than which u no more revolting hor- 
ror has come forth from the Stygian waves." While 
iEneas and his companions are feasting in the Stroph- 
ades, the disgusting creatures swoop down upon their 
banquet from the adjacent mountains, with hoarse, dis- 
cordant croakings, napping their great wings and emit- 
ting an offensive odor, and what they do not devour of 
the feast they defile with their horrible filth. 

The Harpies are not yet extinct. Their foul contact 
still pollutes many a choice banquet ; their trail is over 
many a fair fruit and beautiful flower. 

Obscenity is filth, — uncompromising, unmitigated 



216 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

filth. And, like all other forms of corruption, it is 
found in the greatest abundance at the lowest levels. 
It is not usually the mountain top or the wind-swept 
plain that calls loudly for the cleansing besom, but the 
deep gutter and the rotting swamp. So it is among the 
lowest classes of men that both obscenity and profanity 
run their wildest riot. Savage races are almost invari- 
ably indescribably nasty in thought and word as well 
as in person and habits of life, while among civilized 
nations it is most often in the slums that the house- 
hold words include the foulest in the language. 

But corruption does not confine itself to the lowest 
levels. Its miasma rises and spreads, with greater or 
less attenuation, to all heights and distances. It enters 
the open windows and doors of palace and cottage. It 
is breathed alike by the strongest and by the most deli- 
cate lungs. So the foul word may fall upon the most 
jealously guarded ears. 

Brit it is not always in the gutter or in the swamp that 
the poison has its origin : the palace and the cottage 
may breed their own foul germs. So moral filth may 
gather in the millionaire's home, the impure thought 
may spring in the most delicately nurtured mind, and 
the foul word may soil the daintiest lips. 

What an incongruous combination, scholars ! a refine- 
ment that cannot brook a speck of physical dirt, but can 
tolerate, even enjoy perhaps, moral nastiness ! a fastidi- 
ous taste that is disgusted by the sight of a soiled glove, 
but cherishes the foul thought, and listens to and utters 
the foul word without wincing ! 

How can any one pretend to refinement or good taste 
who relishes dirt of any kind, on the outside of the 
platter or within ? And if there must be dirt in either 
place, is it not better that it should be on the outside ? 
Ah, yes ; far better soiled hands, the sooty face, and 
the dusty blouse without than the impure mind within. 

Would you keep clean from this kind of filth ? Keep 



PROFANITY AND OBSCENITY. 217 

the windows and doors of your mind closed against it; 
keep the hearthstones within clean-swept, lest it gather 
from within. Tolerate no evil companion, book, or pic- 
ture. 

It is not that which is external, but that which is in- 
ternal, that deiileth the man. The microbes of disease 
and death are well-nigh omnipresent ; they infest the 
air we breathe, the water we drink, and the food we eat. 
But persons whose physical systems are in a state of 
vigorous health are rarely subject to their deadly inva- 
sion ; it is those whose vitality is already impaired that 
fall easy victims. So, if our hearts and minds are in 
vigorous health, and especially if our thoughts are fully 
occupied with good honest work and pleasure of one 
kind and another, the microbes of disease and death 
that infest the moral atmosphere will not find easy 
lodgment therein. 

" Blessed are the pure in heart" 



XL. 
WHAT HAS ALGEBRA TO DO WITH VIRTUE? 

Dr. Dix. We will now discuss a subject which we 
promised to consider a long time ago. 

You are accustomed to hear education coupled with 
morality, ignorance with immorality. The common- 
school system of America is looked upon as a greater 
preventive of crime than all her court-houses and pris- 
ons. Yet among the list of regular studies prescribed 
for schools there is rarely one which has a direct bear- 
ing upon personal morality. In introducing this series 
of Talks as a regularly appointed exercise, we have made 
an abrupt departure from long established custom. 
True, it is required and expected that instructors shall 
always exert a good moral influence over their pupils, 
that they shall use their best eudeavors to make of 
them good citizens and true, noble men and women, 
but there is usually no special time set apart for this 
most important of all objects. On the contrary, the 
hours of school are so completely appropriated to purely 
intellectual work, that, unless some arrangement is 
made like that which we have adopted, whatever time 
is taken for moral instruction must in a certain sense 
be stolen or, to put it more gently, must be taken " un- 
der a suspension of the rules. " 

Nevertheless, the desired result is in a great measure 
accomplished, — not so completely as could be wished, 
of course, or as we hope it will be accomplished under 
improved conditions, but yet so completely that, as I 
said in the outset, you are accustomed to hear education 
coupled with morality, and ignorance with immorality. 



WHAT HAS ALGEBRA TO DO WITH VIRTUE* 219 

This being the case, it follows that intellectual work 
has a direct salutary effect upon the moral nature. It 
is difficult, at first thought, to understand what relation 
there can be between the two. How, for example, can 
the pure mathematics, which of all the subjects engag- 
ing the thoughts of men seems to have the least relation 
with either virtue or vice, make them more honest, kind, 
temperate, or patriotic ? 

George Williams. I am glad you are going to talk 
about this subject, Dr. Dix. I have often wondered, 
when I have heard so much about school making people 
good, what algebra had to do with virtue. 

Dr. Dix. I cannot promise to answer the question 
to your satisfaction. There are a great many facts in 
nature which we can only accept as facts : our attempts 
to explain them go but a very little way. Why one 
plant bears grapes and another thistles, no man can 
explain ; he can only know that such is the fact. Now, 
we know that intellectual culture is a tree that gener- 
ally bears good fruit ; the experience of all ages and 
all countries has established this beyond question ; and 
though we may not be able to explain it in full, we can 
present some considerations which may throw a little 
light upon it. We have already incidentally mentioned 
two of these considerations, which I will ask you to 
review. 

Frederick Fox. One effect of intellectual training is 
to inspire a love of truth and a contempt for error. It 
is only the untrained mind that is satisfied with half- 
truths, slovenly conclusions, unproved propositions. 

Dr. Dix. Yes ; and it seems natural that the mind 
that is in the habit of insisting upon the strict truth, or 
the nearest possible approximation to it, in matters of 
science, history, or mathematics should, at least, be 
strongly predisposed in favor of the strict truth in all 
other matters. Go on. 

Isabelle Anthony. In one of the Talks on truthful- 



220 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

ness you remarked that the person who is thoroughly 
absorbed in his algebra or in his Greek cannot at the 
same time be engaged in blackening his neighbor's 
character. 

Dr. Dix. Or in any other kind of mischief. Every 
one will admit that, if there were no other good result 
of intellectual occupation, this would be enough to 
establish its moral usefulness. 

George Williams. May not the same thing be said of 
any kind of useful occupation, whether intellectual or 
physical ? 

Dr. Dix. Yes, with modifications. It is generally 
true that those who are usefully occupied in any way 
are not engaged in mischief at the same time, — not 
actively engaged, at any rate, although it does not 
necessarily follow that the mind and the hands are 
always occupied with the same thing. While the hands 
are busy with good, honest work the heart may be as 
busy in nourishing hatred, revenge, envy, pride, or dis- 
content ; and the brain may be equally busy in devising 
schemes for gratifying the bad passions of the heart. 

George Williams. Is not that being "actively en- 
gaged in mischief " ? 

Dr. Dix. Not in the commonly accepted sense of the 
phrase. That demands the actual execution of the evil 
designs of the mind and heart, which, so long as the 
hands are usefully occupied, is not usually easy. 

Florence Hill. The useful employment of the hands 
may not prevent the tongue from doing mischief at the 
same time. 

Dr. Dix. Very true, Miss Hill. Most employers 
will tell you, however, that an active tongue is not often 
found associated with very busy hands. Neither, in- 
deed, for that matter, are a mind and heart which are 
not fixed on the work of the hands. Even in the most 
mechanical employments the hands will sometimes lapse 
into idleness, that the thoughts may have freer play. 



WHAT HAS ALGEBRA TO BO WITH VIRTUE? 221 

Helen Mar. Dr. Dix, you never attended a ladies' 
sewing circle, if you think that the tongue and hands 
cannot be busy at the same time. [Laughter.] 

Dr. Dix [smiling']. Xo, Miss Mar. I confess I have 
never had that pleasure. I am speaking from my own 
limited experience. With a more extended experience, 
I should undoubtedly modify some of my opinions. But 
let us go on : — 

It is evident that the only time we are absolutely 
secure from all temptation to evil is when the thoughts 
are completely absorbed in some good and useful, or at 
least harmless occupation. It is also evident that the 
mere employment of the hands is not enough : the 
homely old lines, — 

" For Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do," 

should be understood to include idle brains and hearts 
as well. 

]Sow, it would be absurd to claim that algebra, Greek, 
geography, and the other branches that occupy so much 
of our attention here are the only things that can com- 
pletely absorb men's thoughts. It might even be said 
of certain individuals among us, whom I will not name, 
that these studies are about the only tilings that cannot 
completely absorb their thoughts. [Laughter.] But we 
will suppose that they fulfil their mission, that they 
are among the good, useful, at least harmless, things 
which absorb men's attention, and thus keep them from 
possible mischief. We have already a pretty good an- 
swer to the question, " What has algebra to do with 
virtue ? " 

Louisa Thompson. Why should unoccupied minds, 
or rather those which are free to act according to the 
impulse of each moment, — for I suppose it is true that 
no waking mind can be really unoccupied, — why should 
they be so prone to evil ? why shouldn't they be equally 
prone to good ? 



222 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Dr. Dix. Why, indeed ? It is a question easy to 
ask, but hard to answer. It seems to be the general 
policy of Nature that good should be the prize of effort 
and evil the penalty of idleness. A garden left to itself 
bears a crop of ugly, useless, or noxious weeds, with 
only now and then a pleasing flower or a wholesome 
fruit. A mind left to its own undirected thoughts is 
very much like the neglected garden. What a crop of 
rambling, inane fancies, of unreasoning discontent, of 
foolish sighing for the impossible, or perhaps of hatred, 
envy, and impurity, with all their poisonous, bitter 
fruits, it will bear ! 

Frederick Fox. Yet some of the brightest thoughts 
in literature and even some of the important discov- 
eries in science are said to have been struck out in an 
idle hour. 

Dr. Dix. Not often, however, by habitually idle 
minds. The unoccupied hours of habitually busy minds 
are not what we are speaking of. The busiest worker 
must have his hours of rest. Still, there may be excep- 
tions to the rule I have been laying down. As I have 
said, the neglected garden may bear, now and then, a 
pleasing flower or a wholesome fruit. 

But the moral function of intellectual work is not 
alone to prevent evil or useless thoughts by preoccupy- 
ing the ground, — it has also a positive influence upon 
the moral nature. 

It is commonly said that a large proportion of our 
acts have none of what is called the moral quality ; that 
is, they are in themselves neither virtuous nor vicious. 
The act of buying and paying for a piece of property 
for pleasure or convenience might be mentioned as an 
instance. That of studying a lesson in algebra or Greek 
in school would seem, at first thought, to be another 
equally good example. A little consideration will show 
us, however, that it is essentially different from the 
first mentioned. In the first place, it calls into play 



WHAT HAS ALGEBRA TO DO WITH VIRTUE? 228 

industry and, usually, self-denial, two important virtues ; 
in the next, it disciplines the mind, between which and 
the heart there is a closer connection than many sup- 
pose. Our three natures, the moral, the intellectual, 
and the physical, are not separated by distinct lines of 
demarcation, like adjacent states on the map : there is a 
subtle interweaving among them, like that of the three 
primary colors in a ray of light. The same blood that 
nourishes our muscles nourishes our hearts and our 
brains. Each of man's three natures suffers or is bene- 
fited with the rest. But what affects his intellectual 
nature seems to be especially marked in its effects upon 
the other two. Intellectual Greece and Eome, cruel 
as they were, surpassed the barbarians around them 
no less in humanity than in physical prowess. To-day 
the educated European is superior to the Australian 
savage both in his bodily and in his moral stature, and 
among civilized men those of purely intellectual pur- 
suits are, as a class, not only among the longest-lived, 
but also among the most virtuous. 

We conclude, then, scholars, that intellectual training 
does not stop with the intellect, but that it strengthens 
and ennobles the whole threefold nature of man. 

Joseph Cracklin. I have heard that it makes only the 
good man better, — that it makes the bad man worse. 

Dr. Dix. If that be true, the vast majority of men 
must be good, — otherwise our prisons and penitentiaries 
would be the centres of learning, instead of our schools 
and colleges. 



XLI. 

HOME AND COUNTRY: THE GOOD SON AND THE GOOD 

CITIZEN. 

Dr. Dix. The child's habit is to take things for 
granted, to accept the blessings of home and country 
as matters of course, like sunshine and water. As he* 
grows older it gradually dawns upon him that these 
blessings do not come of themselves, but are the fruits 
of unremitting labor and care. Still later he begins to 
realize that the time is not far distant when he must 
bear his share of the burden. 

The management of such a country and government 
as ours is a most momentous responsibility. It requires 
the highest statesmanship, the stanchest loyalty, and 
eternal vigilance. Those upon whom that responsibil- 
ity now rests will soon pass away, and you and your 
generation will be called, by your suffrages and personal 
influence at least, to take their places. The older you 
grow, if you fulfil the law of your being, the less you 
will live for yourselves alone. 

Let us talk this morning of those great responsibili- 
ties that are coming to you all. 

In one of our earlier Talks, we spoke of the heroic 
soldier as a human type of that perfect fidelity to duty 
which we saw in the inanimate and in the lower animate 
creatures. Neither he nor they exist for themselves 
alone, but for the great wholes of which they are parts. 

The strength and efficiency of an army depend upon 
the faithfulness of each member of it ; the harmony of 
the universe depends upon the fidelity to law of each 
world that rolls, of each atom that vibrates. 



HOME AND COUNTRY. 225 

The good citizen is another human type of the same 
fidelity to the general good. 

To make each one of you a good citizen is the great 
object of all these Talks and of all our other efforts in 
school. 

The ■ first duty of either men or things is obedience. 
Universal faithfulness to this duty would bring about 
universal harmony ; universal neglect of it would bring 
about universal chaos. 

No stage or position in life is exempt from the duty 
of obedience. The child owes it to his parents, the pu- 
pil to his teachers, the workman to his employers, the 
soldier to his officers, the citizen to his rulers, and all 
to the laws under which they live, especially to the 
laws of morality and the dictates of conscience. 

George Williams. Suppose there is a conflict of au- 
thorities ? 

Dr. Dix. In all cases precedence is to be given to 
the highest, which I named last. 

George Williams. Then a child may disobey his par- 
ents if his conscience so dictates ? 

Dr. Dix. Certainly. But he must be sure that his 
conscience is right and his parents are wrong : he must 
bear in mind their superior age, wisdom, and experience, 
and .the possibility that he does not understand what 
may be good and sufficient reasons for their commands. 
If they should order him to commit an unmistakably 
criminal or immoral act, it is not only his right but his 
duty to disobey them ; in all other cases it is his duty 
to trust to their judgment and parental fidelity. Grati- 
tude and natural affection should incline him to obedi- 
ence where otherwise he might hesitate. 

Do you realize, boys and girls, what you owe your 
parents ? Think of your infancy, of the tender care 
and the utter forgetfulness of self with which your 
helplessness was guarded and your every need supplied ; 
of the long, long years of your childhood, of the won- 



7 



226 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

derful patience with which your folly, petulance, and 
thoughtless ingratitude were borne, — not merely borne, 
but repaid with unremitting devotion to your happiness 
and welfare. 

This devotion still continues. Never so long as you 
live will your parents cease to love you better than 
themselves, to hold your interests more sacred than 
their own. You can never repay them for all their love 
and self-sacrifice, — they do not ask for repayment, — 
but you can make them happy by your grateful rever- 
ence and obedience in your youth ; you can make them 
happy and proud by leading noble, upright, and aspir- 
ing lives in your manhood and womanhood, and you 
can bless their declining years by returning some of 
the devotion and self-sacrifice which they lavished so 
freely upon you in the years of your helplessness. 

You owe all this not only to them, but also to your- 
selves and to your country ; for the most dutiful son is 
likely to become the most faithful citizen. As he passes 
out from under the parental roof, the filial obedience 
and fealty which he has so long practised will be most 
likely to extend to " Father-land/' to "Mother-country." 
He will recognize a similar debt of gratitude for bless- 
ings received, great and manifold, and a similar obliga- 
tion to stand by and support with heart, brain, and hand. 

The man otherwise intelligent and honest who neg- 
lects his duties to his country, from indolence, culpable 
ignorance of what these duties are, selfish absorption in 
his own private interests, or the mistaken notion that 
she does not need his help, is unworthy of a country 
bought by the blood of his fathers and preserved by 
the blood of his brothers. She does need his help, his 
most earnest and constant help : to defend her from 
her enemies, and to strengthen the hands of her friends ; 
to protect her treasure from the spoiler, and her public 
places from those who seek to gratify only their own 
greed and selfish ambition. There was no lack of public 



HOME AND COUNTRY. 227 

spirit among the founders of the republic. It was their 
devotion to the public good and their sacrifice of private 
interest to it which gave us the best government on 
earth. It is only a like devotion among their descend- 
ants which can keep it the best government on earth. 
The immortal epigram, " Eternal vigilance is the price 
of liberty/' was never more true than it is to-day, and 
it will never be less true. 

You hear men excusing their neglect of public duty 
by the plea that politics has degenerated to a contempti- 
ble, mercenary trade, and that no self-respecting man 
will have anything to do with it. Happily their charge 
is only partially true; there are still noble, unselfish 
statesmen and loyal patriots in public places, there are 
still multitudes of men who vote, as they would fight, 
for their country's best good. But if the charge were 
wholly true, those who bring it could blame none but 
themselves. 

These very men, honest, honorable, intelligent, and 
at heart patriotic, are in the vast majority if they but 
knew it : they have the power in their own hands if 
they chose to exercise it. It is not the great mass of 
voters who are to be benefited (nor would they be bene- 
fited if they could) by the plunder of the public treas- 
ury ; it is not they that wish the chairs of office to be 
filled by those who seek only their own interests. If 
the good men and true of the nation would bestir them- 
selves, take a little pains to inform themselves of what 
is going on all around them, and of the proper steps to 
take the whole control of elections into their own hands, 
they would make short work of the fraud, corruption, 
and trickery which are such a reproach to our still fair 
republic. The " machine " is formidable only to those 
w r ho are too indolent or too timid to walk straight up to 
it and see what a mere scarecrow it really is. It could 
not stand against the persistent opposition of the united 
honesty and patriotism of the land. 



228 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Frederick Fox. The general prosperity is so great, 
notwithstanding the evils you name, that it is hard to 
arouse the people. They see the public corruption 
plainly enough, but they think the country can stand 
it, and so they do not think it worth while to take the 
pains to correct it. 

Dr. Dix. Yes, Fox, that is the great trouble. As 
some one has truly said, th.e danger to a small republic 
comes from without, to a great republic it comes from 
within. When the existence of our government was 
unmistakably in danger, men forgot their pursuit of 
gain, pleasure, and personal power, and rushed bravely 
to its defence. Now that it is, as they imagine, no 
longer in danger of actual destruction, they do not 
concern themselves with the smaller dangers to which 
it is exposed. They are like a man who will peril his 
life to protect his home from a pack of hungry wolves, 
but will carelessly and stupidly allow it to be slowly 
undermined by vermin or dry rot without lifting a fin- 
ger to save it. 

Cato said, "When vice prevails and impious men 
bear sway, the post of honor is a private station." It 
was such sentiments as this which hastened imperial 
Some to her ruin ; and if our own great republic shall 
ever fall, it will be due to the same cowardly and sel- 
fish sentiment prevailing among those who should be 
her saviours. 

But she will not fall. Men will not always love their 
private ease better than their country's good ; they will 
see that the " post of honor " is never a " private sta- 
tion" when she is in peril either from without or 
within. 

George Williams. It is of very little use for any one 
man or for any small body of men to come to her res- 
cue. Even if it is true that all the honest and patri- 
otic men might take the control of affairs into their 
own hands by uniting, what good is there in that, so 



HOME AND COUNTRY. 229 

long as they will not unite ? What would the attempt 
of a few amount to ? 

Dr. Dix. It would amount to an honest, faithful 
attempt; it would amount to their doing their duty, 
even if all other " honest and patriotic " men neglected 
theirs. 

George Williams. But they could n't accomplish any- 
thing. 

Dr. Dix. Could n't accomplish anything ! They are 
the ones who are destined to accomplish the salvation 
of the country. Each year they will grow stronger ; 
each year thousands will be encouraged by their grow- 
ing strength to rally under their standard. That is the 
way all great reforms, from the very foundation of the 
world, have been accomplished. 

Frederick Fox. One chief difficulty is that there are 
so great differences of opinion among really honest and 
patriotic men. Might not this alone give the balance 
of power to fraud and corruption, even if indolence and 
selfish neglect of duty did not ? 

Dr. Dix. Differences of honest opinion there must 
necessarily be ; but they would be enormously dimin- 
ished if men would but take the pains to sift more care- 
fully the evidences on which their opinions are based. 

Jonathan Toiver. How can they do this ? What one 
party journal declares the other party journal contra- 
dicts, — and I suppose most men will believe their own 
paper rather than its political rival. 

Dr. Dix. When you get to be voters I hope you will 
not be slaves either to your party journals or to your 
parties themselves. Don't be satisfied with a party name, 
however respectable or historic. Attend its meetings, 
find out for yourselves what its principles and repre- 
sentative men are to be before you commit yourselves 
to its support. Do not receive your ticket already 
cut and dried; have a voice and hand yourself in its 
making-up. 



230 CHARACTER BUILDING. 

Jonathan Tower. How can we do that ? 

Dr. Dix. By being alive and awake at the primary 
meetings. 

jSTot that your vigilance should end there. " Eternal 
vigilance is the price of liberty." But he who would 
control the course of an arrow will do well to have a 
hand and an eye in its aiming. Once sped, only a strong 
wind can turn the direction of its flight. Especially 
would I warn you against feeling in the least degree 
bound by the decisions of " our party/' unless they 
accord with your own convictions of w r hat is expedient 
and what is right. 

Do not admit the necessity of choosing between evils. 
If you can agree with none of the great political parties 
in what you honestly regard as essential to the welfare 
and honor of the state, join the party with which you 
ean agree, no matter how feeble and insignificant it may 
appear at first. If it is really in the right, it is destined 
to triumph sooner or later, and you will have the proud 
satisfaction, the glory, of being one of its pioneers. 

You are preparing to take your places among the 
educated men and women of our nation. Upon you as 
such will devolve the greatest power, the greatest influ- 
ence, the highest responsibility. Eemember that the 
noblest product of education is 

The Good Citizen. 




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